The Unforgiven
by BewareTheWalkers
Summary: "I was their puppet, and they were my master. They labeled me the Executioner, so I labeled them dead. Living up to the name, I suppose. What I felt, what I've know, I couldn't let it shine through what I was shown. I was never free, never me. What they did, it can only be unforgiven."
1. Prologue: The Winter Soldier

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this.**

* * *

 **Prologue: The Winter Soldier**

 **Clary**

I lifted my head as the door opened, watching as a new guy walked in. "If you're here to beat more information out of me, you can shove your expectations up your ass," I said.

The new guy chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way towards me. "I like your spirit, kid," he said. "Knew a guy from Brooklyn with spunk like that."

I studied him, knowing he looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. His dark hair reached his— _Holy shit I could cut my hand on that jawline. No, Clary, now's not the time to be checking out the enemy, even if he is hot._ He had a stocky build, standing about six feet. He knelt in front of me, and my breath caught in my throat when he extended his left arm. "It's alright," he said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"It's you," I whispered, looking away from the metal arm and up at him. "You're the Winter Soldier."

The Winter Soldier looked down, not meeting my eyes. "I'm not like that anymore. My name is James Buchanan Barnes. My friends call me Bucky." I flinched back as he reached forward, and he hesitated. "I swear, I won't hurt you. What's your name, doll?"

"Clary," I whispered. "'m Clary Dixon."

"Dixon, huh? No chance you related to that old son of a bitch out there?"

"You mean Merle? Sadly, he's my brother."

Bucky rested his fingers, the metal surprisingly cool despite the Georgia heat, on my chin. He gently turning my head so he could see the bruises already beginning to form. "Your brother did this?" he questioned.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"They… the Governor ordered me to come in here. 'Do whatever you need to, as long you get information. Just don't kill her.' But I'm not gonna do that. Not after I saw how young you are."

"I'm fifteen. I ain't that young."

"Are you trying to get me to beat the shit out of you?" Bucky questioned with a bit of a laugh. "I'm here to get you out."

"I ain't goin' nowhere without Glenn and Maggie. I know they're here."

"It's alright. I can get them out."

"They go first. Then you come back for me."

"Clary," Bucky started.

"No, okay? Get them out. Their lives mean more than mine." I looked down in shame. "Hell, I broke the second your Governor threatened Glenn. He knows where the prison's at. Just get 'em out. And if you can't come back, get them out of here and get to the prison. Get everyone there out. Look, I don't know you and you don't know me, and I get that. But just do that for me."

Bucky hesitated for a long minute, then reached behind him, taking a knife from his belt. I tensed as he held it up, then relaxed slightly when he cut my restraints with it. "Here," he said, pressing it into my hand. "You can fight your way out if I can't come back."

"Do what you can to get back," I whispered, the thought of being left behind in this place terrifying. "Bucky, please!"

"Shh, hey, it's alright," he shushed me, gently brushing my hair out of my face. "It's alright. I'm coming back. Don't think I won't. I'll be back for you. I swear. You're right, I don't really know you, but Merle's told me some stories. I'm gonna make you a promise that I intend to keep. I will _always_ come back for you. I will _always_ be there to save you when you need it."

Bucky got to his feet, backing away to the door, then stepped into the hall. I pulled my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I waited. A good five minutes passed before the door opened again, Bucky running this time. He slammed it behind him, barking, "Clary, gotta go!"

I scrambled to my feet, running to him as he held the door against the Woodbury soldiers. "You stay close to me, you got it?" Bucky ordered, and I nodded quickly.

Bucky suddenly threw up his arm, covering my head with it, as the men on the other side fired in on us. The bullets ricocheted off, and the second they stopped firing, Bucky threw a punch through the door, knocking the soldier on the other side out. He kicked open the door, pulling me with him as he ran. We ducked around a corner, and Bucky drew his gun, aiming to fire at the group. "Bucky, no!" I cried. He didn't fire, but he didn't lower his gun, either. "They're my people!"

"Where's Glenn and Maggie?" Rick demanded as Bucky lowered his gun.

"They're at my place. I got 'em out," Bucky answered. "It's this way."

Bucky wrapped an arm around me, moving to tug me along, but he pressed a bit too hard on my ribs, which were bruising, at the least, from where Merle kicked the hell out of me. I cried out, causing the others to stop. "Clary!" Daryl exclaimed, then turned to Bucky. "You get away from her."

"Daryl," I said, wrapping my arm around Bucky's shoulders when he leaned down. "He's on our side. He didn't mean it."

"I'm sorry," Bucky apologized as he lifted me, despite my protests. "Stop, don't fight. You're in pain. Let's just get out of here."

Bucky led the way out of the warehouse, down the street, and into a house near the wall. "They're gonna be looking for us," Bucky said as he gently sat me down on the couch next to Glenn. "We can catch our breath for a second, figure out our next move. But we need to get gone."

* * *

 **Bucky**

"Hey, Glenn!" I called, jogging to catch up with him before he left the cell block. "Hey!"

Glenn turned to face me, asking, "Bucky? Is something happening? Is he here?"

"No, no," I answered, shaking my head. "You know where Clary is?"

"Last I saw her, she was going in her cell. I haven't seen her since early this morning. Couldn't sleep, you know?"

"Too well," I muttered, turning for the stairs. "Thanks, Glenn."

He raised a hand, waving me goodbye before heading outside to take watch. I climbed the stairs, looking down at Judith in her makeshift crib with a small smile before stepping into Clary's cell, lingering by the door. "Clary?" I questioned.

She sat on her bed, curled up in a blanket, leaning against the wall. Her eyes were closed, and it was obvious she was still aching from the beating in Woodbury three days before. Clary didn't respond, didn't even move from her spot, so I stepped forward, kneeling in front of her. "Clary?" I asked. "Clary, hey!" She jerked awake with a start, then groaned, placing a hand over her side. "Clary! Hey! What's wrong?"

"Merle," she whispered. "I think he cracked a rib or two. And in the woods, on the bridge, at the fence… Fighting walkers made it worse. Especially when Merle pushed me into a tree."

"Don't lean against the wall, then," I said, moving to sit behind her. "And your brother's a huge asshole for all of that." I gently pulled her away from the wall, back against my stomach. "Here. I'm much softer than a cement wall."

"Please, if I wanted something soft, I'd be sitting against Daryl or Carl. You, on the other hand, are about as soft as a rock. It's all that muscle, like Jesus, man."

I chuckled softly, then started to get up, saying, "Well, alright, if that's how you feel…"

"Don't go, Buck," Clary begged, reaching after me. She retracted her arm with a whimper as she moved the wrong way.

"Clary, you gotta rest," I told her, setting back down beside her. "I'm not going anywhere, but you gotta relax. You're gonna really hurt yourself one of these days."

"You haven't even known me that long."

"Yeah, but I got a pretty good idea about you. You're a good person."

Clary looked down, not meeting my eyes. "I'm not a good person. I've done some bad things."

"Yeah, join the club," I muttered. "That doesn't mean you're not a good person. I've done too much to still be good."

"You don't know what I've done."

"Then tell me. You don't let anyone close. You don't trust anyone, do you? I haven't known you all that long, but I can see it. Yeah, you might've done some bad things. So what? Who hasn't? Who hasn't killed to survive in this world? We've all done shit. I don't blame you for not trusting anyone. I don't trust many people." I glanced away from her before muttering in Russian, "I've only trusted one man as much as I trust you."

Clary chuckled softly before sharply inhaling, then replied in the same language. "I've only trusted a handful of people in my life. I haven't known you long, but you're one of them."

"Look at that!" I said with a bit of a laugh. "You speak Russian! Anything else?"

"I'm fluent in Spanish," Clary answered. "My friend's family, there was someone from Puerto Rico. It was his great-grandmother, I think. Her kids and their kids grew up with Spanish as their first language. Sam's mom, Annalise, was the same way. She still spoke Spanish a lot. Sam and I have been friends since we were in diapers, basically, so I just learned a lot of Spanish from him and his family."

"That's such a cute story. Honestly, I'm not kidding. That's _really_ cute. With Russian, did you learn it in school or somewhere else?"

"In school."

"Can you read it?"

Clary shrugged. "I guess. I'm not as good with Russian as I am Spanish, though."

"I mean, that's understandable. Russian _is_ a hard language to learn." I reached into my bag, which was sitting on the floor beside her bed, and pulled out the notebook I've had with me since I escaped Hydra. I flipped open to a random page, then held it out for her. "Can you read that?"

" _Mission report: December 16th, 1991,"_ she translated. Clary read over the few paragraphs on the page, then looked up at me. "You killed Howard Stark?"

I dropped my gaze, staring down at the floor. "I've done bad things. Worse than that." I reached around her, flipping to a page I dog-eared. "Like this."

Clary looked down at the page, reading it aloud. " _Dallas, November 22nd… 1963."_ Clary looked up at me. "You were there."

"Hydra set it up. Oswald took the blame. Two guns, right? How else could a bullet curve?"

Clary looked back down at the notebook in her hands. "What the hell is this?"

"It's a ledger. My ledger. Everything I did as the Winter Soldier."

I flipped to the front page, looking away from the words as soon as I read the first one. Clary started, " _Longing, rust—"_

"Don't," I whispered. "Please, Clary, never read those. It's what activates the Winter Soldier."

"Oh, shit, Buck, I'm sorry," Clary apologized, turning to face me. "I had no idea. I swear, I won't use 'em."

"No, memorize them," I ordered. "They have to be said in Russian. Memorize 'em, 'cause one day, you might need the Winter Soldier, not Bucky."

"Buck, I can't do that to you. Hydra can have you back over my dead body. I'll promise you that."

"And that's what I'm scared of," I told her. "Memorize those words. I can't let you die, especially not for me."

"Alright," Clary gave in. "But I won't use it. Ever. Not even when I'm about to die."

* * *

 **Clary**

 _I swore to him I'd never use it, not even if my life depended on it._

"Dad!" I could hear Carl cry out in terror from the other side of the vehicle. "Dad!"

 _Not even when I was about to die._

Daryl barked, "You get away—"

 _We're gonna die._

My brother was cut off as a punch was thrown, knocking him to the ground.

 _This is it_.

He threw his arms over his head to protect himself as the Claimer beating the hell out of him kicked at his head. I tried to crawl away, to get to Daryl at least, but a second Claimer grabbed my ankles, dragging me back to him. Daryl couldn't get away, Rick and Michonne were at gunpoint, Carl was in the same position as me, and Bucky was refusing to fight back.

 _This is the end. Of all of us._

I couldn't catch everything the Claimer hitting Bucky was saying, but I realized it wasn't English. It was Russian, and he was calling Bucky "soldier."

 _Oh my god, he's Hydra. He's gonna activate Bucky._

I froze at the realization, and the Claimer above me chuckled darkly. "Finally giving in, sugar?" he questioned. "Yeah, good choice."

"No!" Daryl shouted, scrambling to his feet, only to be kicked in his stomach and knocked back down. He rolled on his side with a groan, but looked up at the Claimer. "You stay the fuck away from her."

The Claimer that was beating Daryl put a gun to his head, prompting me to fight back. The bastard on me put a knife to my neck, reaching down to undo my belt. "You're not gonna fight back anymore," he growled. "You're gonna hold still, aren't you?"

 _Please, kill me._

"Clary!" Bucky called. "Say it!" He was blurry, and it took me a moment to realize I was crying. "Say it now!"

 _I never said I wouldn't do it to save them._

I turned to Bucky, not hesitating now to cry out in Russian, " _Longing, rusted, seventeen! Daybreak! Furnace, nine, benign! Homecoming! One! Freight car!"_

Before a second even passed, Bucky was gone and the Winter Soldier was in his place. He turned on the ex-Hydra Claimer, reaching up with both hands before he could react and snapping his neck. "Bucky!" I cried, but he didn't respond. "Soldier!" My voice rose to a shriek as the Claimer unzipped my jeans. "Help me!"

He turned at that, and the Claimer that had his gun on Daryl shifted it to Bucky, firing without aiming. The bullet ricocheted off Bucky's arm, but he remained unphased. He ripped the gun out of the Claimer's hand, putting it to his head and putting a bullet through it. The Claimer on top of me removed his knife, then pulled me to my knees, using my body as his shield and replacing his knife at my neck. I swallowed in fear, the knife's edge just brushing my neck. "Make one move, and she's dead," the Claimer growled.

Around Bucky, I could see Rick as he bit into the leader's neck, tearing out a part before spitting out the flesh and blood. My eyes widened, not knowing or even imagining that Rick was capable of something like that. The Claimer behind me let out a cry of surprise and horror, and distracted, Bucky took aim and fired. The knife nicked my neck as the Claimer fell, dead before he hit the ground. He fell backwards with the force of the bullet, and I fell forwards, landing on my forearms with a grunt. Bucky started forward, pulling me to my feet with one hand, then picking me up with his metal arm. He handed the gun to Daryl, pulling him to his feet, then handed me off to him. Daryl wrapped his arm around my waist, then held the gun out for Bucky to take. He hesitated, looking to me for permission, and I told him, "Take it, Soldier. You know what to do."

The Claimer holding Michonne at gunpoint was frozen in shock, and so was she. Neither moved throughout the thirty or so seconds that everything happened in. Bucky turned and fired, killing the Claimer beside Michonne. Carl scrambled away from the Claimer that was on top of him as Rick started forward, Michonne meeting Carl halfway and wrapping her arms around him. Rick sunk his knife into the sick son of a bitch's chest first, but not in the right place to kill him. Bucky saw this, and not knowing whose side he was on, aimed his gun. Before he could fire, I cried, "Sputnik!"

Bucky dropped to the ground, prompting a cry of concern from the others. Rick turned just to see Bucky drop to the ground, then to Daryl and me. Daryl nodded once, and Rick turned back, finishing off the remaining Claimer. Daryl tried to protest as I pulled away from him, dropping down beside Bucky. I pulled his unconscious form away from one of the dead Claimers, cradling his head in my lap. Rick, out of breath, turned to face us, and I saw his face for the first time since it all started. His eyes were wide, out of a mixture of fear and anger; and his mouth and beard were stained crimson, the blood running down his neck and onto his shirt. We were all silent, staring at each other. We all jumped at the sound of Daryl falling to his knees beside me. "I was with them," Daryl whispered. "I knew they were bad, but… I didn't know what they could do."

"Daryl," Carl said softly, and my brother turned to him. "It's not on you. It's not."

I closed my eyes against the tears leaking out of them, choking back a sob. A long moment passed before Rick asked, "Clary, what was that? That wasn't Bucky."

I opened my eyes, but I didn't look up to face them. "I activated the Winter Soldier," I whispered. "I swore to him I'd never do that. Not even when I was going to die."

* * *

 **A quick little note before the story continues:**

 **Like with my previous fic, _We Come For Them_ , I also made a trailer for this one. It can be found on YouTube at ****watch?v=uNqHfb4BAF4**

 **If you can't find it by copying the link, then just go to YouTube and search "BewareTheWalkers." My channel should be the first thing that pops up.**


	2. The Start

**Chapter 1: The Start**

 **Clary**

Everything that happened, I guess it happened because of that one run. My group had been in the new safe haven called Alexandria for about a week and a half before the conflict started. Our leader, Rick, was named constable by the woman in charge, Deanna Monroe. When he found out that a woman, Jessie, was being abused by her husband, Pete, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He didn't speak to his fellow constable and one of the badasses of our group, Michonne, nor did he take it up with Deanna. He got in a fight, waved a gun around, and Michonne stepped in, knocking him out. Pete was put in another house, though, and the son of a bitch decided to get drunk, stole Michonne's signature katana. He showed up to the meeting where we were to decide what to do with Rick, which took place the night after the fight. Deanna's husband, Reg, tried to talk him down. Of course, this resulted in Pete killing Reg, and in turn, Deanna ordering Rick to execute Pete.

All of which happened in the night before we met the others. My fellow runners, Glenn, who's been with me since before Atlanta, and Sam Wilson, from Alexandria but originally DC, decided to go on a run, just to get out of here for a little while. And if you recognize Sam's name, then you know he's the Falcon. Yeah. That's pretty damn cool, being friends with a superhero. Of course, not nearly as awesome as one of your closest and best friends being Bucky fucking Barnes, more commonly known as the Winter Soldier.

"Speak of the devil," I remarked, watching as Bucky descended the stairs from the house we shared, along with my brother, Daryl, my boyfriend, Carl, Rick, and Michonne.

"What, were you talking about me?" Bucky asked.

"More like thinkin'."

"Well, I'm awfully honored, Miss Dixon." He bowed, then threw his arm around my shoulders as he stepped up next to us. "You guys going on a run?"

"Yeah," Glenn said.

"You know, Barnes, you're welcome to join us," Sam told him.

"No, I think I'm gonna stay back here," Bucky said with a shake of his head.

"You know we took down Hydra. It's gone. They won't come for you."

"I know," Bucky sighed. "It just freaks me out. Being this close to DC, remembering everything from before."

"I'll tell you what, Buck," I said, looking up at him. "If I find you any Milk Duds while I'm out there, then you have to come on my next run."

Bucky thought for a minute, then removed his arm from my shoulder, leaving his metal one hanging limply by his side as he shook my hand, making the deal. "You get Milk Duds, and I'll go outside the walls," he said, nodding. "It's a deal."

"You guys ready?" Glenn asked, standing by the driver's side door.

"Shotgun," I claimed, pushing past Sam, who had started to open the door. "Thanks."

Sam sighed, but he climbed in the backseat. Eugene pulled the gate open as we approached, and Glenn backed the van up as a second van pulled through. A tall, dark skinned man climbed out of the van, followed by a woman that for a second, I mistook her for Karen. "Sam," I breathed. "The girl. Who is that?"

"That's Annie," Sam answered. "The tall guy's Scott, the one with the dreads and glasses is Heath." I opened the door, climbing out. "Hey, Clary! What's going on?"

Even as I reminded myself that she's Annie and not Karen, I couldn't help myself thinking that the woman I killed, the murder that got me exiled from the prison, has come back to haunt me. "Karen?" I asked.

Annie turned to look at me, offering me a small smile. "Hi, I'm Annie. Who's Karen?"

"No one," I replied, shaking my head. "You just, uh, you just look like her. I'm Clary, by the way. Clary Dixon." I gestured towards Eugene. "So, I see you met the mullet. I apologize that he was the first of our group y'all met."

The one Sam called Heath chuckled, then extended a hand for me to shake. "Heath. And thanks for the apology."

I nodded, shaking his hand, and in the van behind me, Glenn leaned out the window. "Hey, Dixon! You coming or what?"

"Calm your tits, Glenn!" I called back to him. "I'm comin'." I glanced back at Heath's team. "Nice meetin' y'all. Sam said you're Scott, right?"

I received a nod, then turned and ran back to the van. I put my feet up on the dash after we're out of Alexandria, asking, "So, boys, where are we headin'?"

"Store about fifty miles out," Sam answers. "I'm thinking it might have weapons, some ammo."

"And batteries," Glenn adds. "Hopefully, batteries. Olivia said that's what we needed."

"Better settle in, boys," I said, looking down at the map Sam handed me. "We're in for a long ride."

"Yeah, so get your feet off the dash," Glenn replied, reaching over and knocking my feet down. In retaliation, I simply put them up again. "Oh, real mature, Clary."

I reached forward, turning on the radio, and Sam sighed, "Man, I hope it's not any more of that techno shit."

"You and me both," I agreed, but the music choice was a victory for my ears. "Metallica! Hells yeah!"

In the backseat, Sam laughed before saying, "You and Tony would really get along, I think."

"Tony?" I asked, turning to look at him.

"Tony Stark. You know, Iron Man?"

"Oh, that Tony!"

"Yeah, who'd you think I was talking about? Antonio Banderas?"

"Wow, rude, Sam. Just 'cause I didn't put two and two together…"

"Oh, come on, Clary," Glenn said. "Even I figured he was talking about Tony Stark."

"Put a sock in it, Short Round," I said, glancing over at him before returning my attention to Sam. "Anyway, why'd you say that?"

"He loves classic rock. AC/DC, Metallica, you know. That and the whole sarcasm-nickname thing you've got."

I nodded once, then settled back down in my seat, closing my eyes to nap on the way to the store. The constant movement of the vehicle lulled me to sleep, and I never even woke until Sam shook me awake forty-five miles later. "Hmm? What?" I questioned, rubbing my eyes. "What's goin' on?"

"We're nearly there," Sam answered, watching as I stretched my neck, sore from how I was sleeping. "You awake yet, Sleeping Beauty?"

"You know what, bird brain," I started.

"Enough," Glenn interrupted, pulling the van to a stop. "Last thing we need is you distracted while we're out here. Wait until we get home."

"You got lucky, Wilson."

"Same to you, Dixon," Sam replied, sticking his tongue out at me. In reply, I stuck mine out at him. Sam chuckled as we climbed out of the vehicle, and we drew our weapons as we started into the store. Sam was a moment behind us, having taken a moment longer to put his Falcon suit on his back. I whistled, but no walkers came. Sam and Glenn started back into the store, looking for any supplies, while I stayed near the front. When I heard a noise outside, I took my crossbow off my shoulder, starting towards the door. I glanced back towards Sam and Glenn, but they were in the very back of the store, so I started outside on my own.

I stayed at the back of the van, leaning around the edge to see what I could see. Someone was leaning in the driver's seat, trying to start the van. I put my crossbow on the ground, then attacked this new guy from behind. I pulled him away from the van, snapping, "Get your own car, asshat!"

He shoved me away, then reached back inside the van for something. I started to bring my leg up in a kick, but the blonde grabbed my foot, then threw me to the ground. I was back on my feet in a second, getting fed up with him not fighting back or getting the hint. I pulled him away from the van yet again, and kicked him to the ground. I pulled my gun on him, making sure he stayed down. "Who the fuck are you?" I asked.

"Do I know you?" he questioned. "I swear, I've seen you before."

"Boys!" I yelled. "Get your asses out here!"

I kept my gun on the blue eyed blonde as I heard the running footsteps of Glenn, and glanced up for a second to see Sam overhead. I snapped back to the blonde, surprised that he didn't try anything while I took my eyes off of him. Above us, Sam chuckled, calling, "Ha! Who's on your left now!"

The guy on the ground sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up at me. "You should've told me you knew Sam."

"Who the fuck are you? How the fuck was I supposed to know you knew Sam?"

"Watch it, Clary," Sam said as he landed beside me. "The old man doesn't like that kind of language." The blonde groaned, and Sam placed a hand on top of my gun. "Put it down, Clary."

"Will someone please tell me who the fuck this is?" I snapped.

Sam stepped between us, reaching down to pull the blonde to his feet. "Welcome back, Cap."

He pulled Sam into a hug, grinning as he said, "I wasn't sure if you made it."

"I'm not you, but I can still fight," Sam replied, releasing him. "Clary, Glenn, this is my buddy Steve Rogers. You know him as Captain America."

Instantly, I lowered my gun. "Holy shit."

"What she said," Glenn breathed. After sharing a look with him, I saw that he was just as amazed as I was.

"Sorry for, uh, aiming a gun at you," I apologized, scratching the back of my head.

Steve chuckled at that, grinning as he looked over at me. "You're a fighter, aren't you?"

"Guess so," I answered.

"It's all good." He scratched the back of his head, then said, "Sorry about trying to steal your van. My car broke down, and I thought this one was abandoned."

"Cap, how many walkers have you killed?"

"Lost track. Why?"

"No reason. Just wondering."

Beside me, Glenn questioned, "Aren't you going to ask the other two questions?"

"No. I don't need to. He's Captain America, Glenn." To Steve, I asked, "You alone?"

He shook his head. "I tried to steal your car to get back to the others. Stark, Barton, Natasha, and the twins."

"Hold up," Sam said. "Twins. As in plural?"

"Pietro's alive. We had no idea. Not even Wanda knew. He just showed up about two weeks into it, out of the blue." Steve sighed, then reached into the van and pulled out his shield. "You mind giving me a ride? I was supposed to be back yesterday."

"You know, it's funny," I said. "Daryl and Aaron were supposed to be recruiting people for Alexandria, but we're gonna bring the damn Avengers back."

"Watch it, Steve doesn't like that kind of language," Sam repeated.

Steve groaned. "Did Stark tell everyone about that?"

Sam laughed, nodding once. "Alright, let's get going. Store's picked clean. Glenn, you still driving?"

"I was gonna let Cap drive," Glenn answered. "He knows where we're going."

"Let's chew up some asphalt," I said, climbing in the side door. Sam and I climbed in the back, Glenn and Steve in the front with the latter behind the wheel. We were quiet as Steve drove, and I eventually broke it by saying, "So, Steve, I've heard a lot about you. And not just from the media."

Steve's blue eyes lifted to the rearview mirror, meeting Sam's dark ones. "Sam?"

"All good things," Sam said with a chuckle.

"And he told me about what really went on in DC," I added, choosing my words carefully. "He told me about the Winter Soldier. And how you've been looking for him."

Steve looked at me in the rearview mirror. "Yeah?"

"I've got some news for you, Steve. And you might want to stop the car."

Steve hesitated for a moment before rolling to a stop, his eyebrows creased as he turned around to look at me. "Clary?"

"I know where Bucky is. He was in Georgia for a while there, but he's in Alexandria now. He's been with Glenn and me for a good many months."

Steve was in a stunned silence, unable to speak, and when he finally did, his voice wavered. "Buck… he's with you?"

"Come with us," Glenn said. "He misses you, you know."

"Where's Alexandria?" Steve demanded. "How far is it from here?"

"Whoa, slow your roll, soldier," I said. "What about the others?"

"Right, the, uh, the others," Steve said, shaking his head.

"Move it, Cap," I ordered, switching places with him. He climbed in the back with Sam, while I climbed up front. "Which way?"

Steve pointed me in the right direction, studying me in the rearview mirror as I drove. Eventually, he said, "Oh my god. Georgia."

I glanced up at him in the mirror. "What about it?"

"I remember it now. Where I know you from."

"Wait a minute," Glenn said, turning in his seat to face Steve. "You know Clary?"

"Damn, Clary," Sam said. "Why didn't you tell us you knew Steve?"

"I didn't know that I did," I told them.

"It was a little under a month before it all started. Sam, you remember that lead on Bucky in Georgia?"

"Yeah, you were gone for like two weeks," Sam replied.

"Well, when I was there, one morning, I went for a run. Couldn't sleep, didn't have any new info. So I went for a run, trying to clear my head."

"Oh my god," I said. "I remember now. Sorry about that, by the way."

"Don't be. It was my fault. I was running, and I accidentally ran straight into this girl. We both go down, and if looks could kill… oh boy, she looked downright murderous. Like Natasha without coffee."

"Oh, talk about murder," Sam laughed.

"My god, Clary," Glenn said. "I knew you could be scary, but not like that."

"She really looked like she was going to kill me," Steve said. "And then there's what she said…"

"No, no no no, please don't repeat that," I pleaded. "Oh my god, Steve, please."

"Relax. There is no way in hell you can get me to say that."

"Jeez, Clary," Glenn said. "Who were you before we met? That sounds more like Merle than you."

"Oh, you're lucky you didn't know me before this. The beginning of this, it really changed me. Losing my Sammy that way, that really changed me into the person I am now. But before that, with Jess…" I breathed out a sigh, shaking my head. "There's only been a handful of times that I was truly scared, and that was the first time. I mean, yeah, I was scared before that, with my dad, but it was never true terror like that. If Daryl hadn't gotten there… oh, hell, maybe it would've been better if Jess had bitten me. I wouldn't've had to go through the stuff…" It was hard to continue then, my voice shaking. "With… with the Gov…" I swallowed, barely able to speak. "And…" I stopped the van, shaking almost too much to drive, as my voice dropped to a whisper. "Terminus… the tracks…"

"Hey, Clars, stop talking about it," Glenn told me, placing a hand on my arm. "Scoot over. I'll drive."

I shook my head, refusing to move. I sucked in a breath, steadying my voice before I told him, "Just… Just give me a minute, okay? I'll be fine."

"You okay?" Steve asked.

"Gotta be."

"Clary," Sam started.

"I'm fine, Sam. Drop it. All y'all."

I didn't miss the look Steve and Glenn shared, the latter shaking his head. To Steve, he said, "Don't. Trust me. Not right now. Not yet."

Steve questioned, "But is she…?"

Glenn shook his head again. "No."

* * *

 **Glenn**

Steve sat in a silence as we rolled to a stop at his camp, Clary taking the keys out of the ignition. The Avengers sitting around a fire turned as the van pulled up, and a blonde in his early twenties got to his feet first. Another guy in his late thirties followed him, aiming his bow towards us. He called, "Get out of the car! Now!"

Clary grabbed her crossbow, kicking open the door and using it for cover as she aimed her weapon towards them. "Put it down, Legolas!" she snapped.

The bowman nodded once to the blonde, and he was beside Clary in an instant. He disarmed her, pulling her away from the van and putting a gun to her head. "Hey!" I cried, moving to raise my gun.

"Don't," the blonde warned. His voice heavily accented, from somewhere in Eastern Europe.

"Let go of me," Clary snapped, struggling to free herself.

Finally, Steve came to our rescue, vouching for us. "Pietro," he said, climbing out of the van with Sam behind him. "It's alright. She's with me."

"Steve?" the bowman, who I now recognized as Hawkeye, questioned, lowering his weapon. "Where the hell have you been?"

"My car broke down," he explained. "These are good people. They have a community."

"Let go of me," Clary repeated. Pietro had taken his gun off of her, but his arm was still around her, holding her in place. He released her, picking up her crossbow for her as a way of apologizing for aiming a gun at her head. "So, Cap, you gonna introduce us to Black Sabbath and his motley crew or not?"

Across the fire, Stark chuckled at the nickname. "I think I like this girl. Were you planning that joke or did it just come to you?"

Clary winked in reply. "That's for me to know, and you to find out."

Steve scoffed, then gestured to the blonde beside Clary. "You've already met Pietro Maximoff, known as Quicksilver. The guy with the bow is Clint Barton. You know him as Hawkeye."

Clint raised his hand, waving once. "Sorry about that stuff earlier. Can't be too careful nowadays."

"Got that right," Clary remarked.

"I don't know why I'm bothering. Everyone knows me," Stark said, getting to his feet. "I'm Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and I am Iron Man."

"Nicely phrased."

"Thanks. I try."

"I'm Clary Dixon, a redneck with six bucks to her name, a give-'em-hell attitude, and I am Indiana Jones," Clary introduced herself, then gestured to me. "That's Glenn Rhee, sidekick, walker bait, and he is Short Round."

"Oh, shut it," I told her. "I hate you sometimes."

"Please, you know you love me."

"And you two bicker like an old married couple," Sam remarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No, it's more like Wanda and I," Pietro argued, grinning at a brunette his age. "Like brother and sister."

"Nat, are you gonna be anti-social or are you gonna be a nice secret agent and introduce yourself to _Shanghai Knights_ over here?" Sam teased the redhead, the only one that hasn't introduced herself.

"I am _Korean_ ," I told him. "At least when Clary gives me a nickname, she gets my race right." Clary laughed when I said that. It wasn't a full laugh, more of a soft chuckle, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "Ha! Yes! She laughed!" Clary went silent, looking down at her hands, and I glanced at Steve. "She doesn't do that much anymore. She never really did, come to think of it."

"I never had much to smile 'bout," Clary said.

"There was a time when you smiled. There was."

"Some people never smile much," the redhead said, getting to her feet. "Agent Natasha Romanoff. Black Widow."

At that, Clary grinned, and it grew a bit when she looked towards Clint. "It's getting dark soon," Sam remarked. "Thinking maybe we should camp here tonight, go back to Alexandria in the morning."

While Sam went to get caught up with the other Avengers, Pietro returning to his spot next to his sister, I stepped over to Clary. "You seem very happy," I said. "Something you want to tell me?"

"Hawkeye's my favorite superhero," Clary whispered. "And he's alive!"

I nudged her with my elbow. "Then go say hi. I mean, we're gonna be here all night. Relax a bit. What could go wrong?"

* * *

 _Everything. Everything went wrong._

I woke to a gunshot, followed by shouting in a language that wasn't English. "Wanda!" Pietro shouted, now in English. "Fall back! There's too many!"

"I can do it!" came her reply, while Natasha ran over to Clary and I. "We need to get gone, right now," she said, pulling me to my feet. "Who has the keys?"

"I do," I said. "Cover me while I get to the van?"

"Clint!" Clary shouted, beckoning the archer to us. "You're on Glenn's six! He's the D.S.!"

"The hell does D.S. mean?" I asked, turning to look at her.

"Designated Survivor," Natasha solemnly said.

I looked across the camp, to the van, and I wondered why we chose to park so far away. "Let's go!" Clint barked, firing arrow after arrow to the walkers that swarmed us in the middle of the night. "Just run! I'll cover you!"

We fought to the van, diving inside and slamming the doors against the walkers. "Get in the back," I ordered. "Get the doors open. I'm gonna try to drive through. Get everyone in."

I started the van, while Clint climbed over the seat into the back. I ran over some walkers, trying to get to the people closest to us first. Clint threw open the doors, Natasha diving in first, followed by Steve and Stark. Natasha climbed up front with me, making more room for everyone in the back. The twins climbed in next, and Clary was halfway across camp, fighting to get to Sam instead of the van. "Sam!" Clary shouted, trying to be heard over the groans of the undead. "Sam! Hurry!"

Suddenly, a scream rang out, and I froze. A gun was fired, and Sam held his shoulder in one hand as he ran for Clary, who was frozen in place. "Go!" Sam shouted. "Get out! I'm dead!"

"Pietro!" Clint barked. Natasha climbed over me, pushing me into the passenger's seat and taking over driving. I sat, silent in shock, as Sam tackled a walker away from Clary, and Pietro skidded to a halt next to her. To Pietro, Sam ordered, "Go! Leave me! I'm dead anyway! Tell Glenn the suit's his!"

Pietro said something to Sam that I couldn't hear, then picked Clary up, carrying her into the van. Stark pulled the doors shut, and we were surrounded. Walkers were on all sides, Sam's screams echoing as the dead tore into him. The worst part of it all was that we couldn't leave. Not easily, anyway. The van was completely surrounded, walkers pushing against it. I turned as someone tapped my shoulder, to find Stark there. "You want to switch? Be in the back?" he questioned.

I nodded silently, switching places with Stark. I took a seat near Clary, but not next to her. She sat alone, in the dark corner by the back doors. I was dimly aware of the van moving, Stark and Natasha using the map to navigate the way home. "I didn't really know him that well," I said, looking down at the mechanical wings beside me. The suit he left me. "Only for about two weeks, if that. He was a good guy." I glanced up at Captain America, knowing that he and Sam were good friends. "I'm sorry, Steve."

He nodded once, and I turned my attention to Clary. She was still sitting in her corner, muttering something under her breath repeatedly, and she was shaking like a leaf. "Wanda," Pietro whispered. "Think you could do something for her? She's losing it."

"I… I can try," Wanda answered, red wisps of energy flowing from her fingers, towards Clary's head. Wanda retracted her hand, the energy disappearing, a moment later, her eyes widening as she clasped a hand over her mouth. "Pietro…"

The twins returned to their native tongue, Pietro's eyes widening as well. "Block it," Pietro told his sister. "Make her see something else."

"I-I don't know if I can," Wanda admitted.

" _Try_ , Wanda," Pietro pleaded. Wanda took a deep breath, the red energy flowing from the tips of her fingers yet again. Clary looked up at Wanda, growing silent, and her eyes momentarily glowed red before returning to their usual grey-blue. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. "Wanda? Did it work?"

Wanda slowly shook her head. "No. I didn't think it would."

Pietro got up, then knelt in front of the youngest Dixon. "Clary?" he asked. "Hey, Clary?" When he received no response, Pietro took her hands in one of his, then rested the other on her cheek, forcing her to look at him. "Clary? You with me?"

"I said I wouldn't let it happen again," Clary whispered, lifting her gaze to meet Pietro's eyes. "He died saving me."

Pietro wrapped an arm around her, holding her against his chest. "I know," Pietro said softly. "I know. But he told us to leave. There wasn't anything we could've done, Clary. He was already dead."

"I don't care about that," Clary said, choking back a sob. "I lost another Sam to 'em. In the same damn way. I said I wouldn't let that happen ever again. But it did."

"You can't change the past, Clary," Pietro told her. "No matter how hard you try. It's not going to change. What happened, happened. We can't go back."


	3. No Turning Back

**Chapter 2: No Turning Back**

 **Clary**

We can't even go a damn day without something happening.

When we got back to Alexandria with the remaining Avengers, Rick told us there's trouble. A shit ton of walkers west of us, held in by a truck that can go off the edge of the cliff at any given time. And that exit, it would send them east, right up to Alexandria's nice little gate. So we made plans, drew up a route that would take them away from us. We took volunteers from Alexandria, from the Avengers, and from our group. And the day everything went wrong, it was the day we did the test run.

"I know this sounds insane, but this is an insane world," Rick called out, facing the ones that have signed up to lead the walkers away. "We've got to come for them, before they come for us. It's as simple as that. This is where it all starts tomorrow. Tobin gets in the truck, open the exit, and we're off. He hops out, catches up with his team at red, staying on the west side of the road. Daryl gets on his bike—"

"Rick!" I shouted, cutting him off when I saw the truck starting to fall. "It's going!"

Rick turned, and we all watched as the cliff underneath the truck gave way, opening the exit that sends them east. "No turning back now," I said, stepping backwards towards my team.

"It's open!" Rick shouted, jumping down from his spot on top of a flatbed. "We're doin' this now! Tobin's group, get moving, go!"

"Rick! We're not ready!" Carter, an Alexandrian that's never been out before, protested.

"Sasha! Abe!" I barked.

"Damn straight!" Abraham replied as they ran to the god awful car they're driving. "We're doin' it live!"

"You meet Daryl at red! Let him take 'em through the gauntlet!"

"We meet at red!" Sasha echoed.

"Go!" I turned to Daryl, and then Bucky, who ran up beside me. "Don't do anything stupid, you hear? Come back to me. The both of you. Buck, get goin'!"

"Same goes for you!" Daryl replied, running for his bike. "Glenn!"

"Rick!" I barked, tossing Glenn, who's moved over to Daryl, his bag. "We're gonna hit the tractor place!" I backed up, turning to Heath and Pietro as Glenn rejoins us. "We've gotta take 'em out there. They'll distract the horde."

Nicholas appeared beside us, begging, "I'm here, let me help."

"No," I told him, shaking my head.

"Let me help!"

"No!"

"We don't have time for this!"

"You do everything we say, you hear me?" I looked up at Heath, who knew him from his time in Alexandria. "Don't go easy on him."

"They're coming!" Daryl called, though it was nearly drowned out when he revved the motorcycle's engine.

"Rick! This was supposed to be a dry run!" Carter cried, looking at the leader. "We haven't even gone through the whole plan!"

"You want to go back, go back!" Rick barked. "Tobin, hit it on my signal! They're headin' for home! We don't have a choice!"

"Heath! Glenn! Pietro! With me!" I barked, starting off. We were joined by Scott and Annie's team as we booked it, their group breaking off as we headed for the tractor place. As we ran, I heard Rick's voice on the walkies clipped to both Glenn's belt and mine. He said, "You all have your assignments. You know where to rendezvous. Daryl leads them out. Sasha and Abraham join them at the bottom of the hill. Glenn, you hit us when you take care of the walkers at the tractor place. That's the one thing we gotta get ahead of. Everybody, keep your heads. Just keep up."

As we neared the tractor place, I heard Sasha's voice come over the radio. "We're at red at the bottom of the hill."

"Alright, here comes the parade," Daryl replied.

Rick spoke next. "Glenn, Clary, you there yet?"

"Almost," Glenn replied. "But we'll have it handled before they get here. We'll meet you at yellow."

"Copy that," Rick said.

As we come around a turn, the tractor place came into view. I looked around at the others with me. At Pietro, who wasn't even breathing hard, who's faced worse. At Glenn, who was focused, taking on my code of not letting any emotion show when we're on a job. At Heath, who looked slightly uncomfortable, out of his element. At Nicholas, who was downright terrified. I looked back ahead we slowed down a bit, nearing the tractor place. "We're almost there. Let's take 'em out."

* * *

 **Bucky**

"Just like the old times, huh, Buck," Steve said from where he ran beside me, Clint and Natasha behind us.

"How the hell is this like old times?" I questioned, glancing at him. "Since when we were running from the dead?"

"Well, maybe not exactly like old times."

"We're almost to yellow," Natasha called from behind us. "That's where we're supposed to meet everyone."

Over the radio, Sasha stated her position, followed by Daryl replying that he was almost there. Rick asked, "Glenn, you there yet?"

"Almost," came his reply. "But we'll have it handled before they get here. We'll meet you at yellow."

"Copy that," Rick replied. "Bucky, how's your team?"

"We're almost to yellow," I answered. "Will the walls hold?"

"They'll hold," Rick said, sure of it. "They're almost here."

* * *

 **Clary**

"Glenn, you have to talk to me," Rick said over the radio, and I took it from my belt. "You have to hurry. The noise could distract them right off the road."

"We're here, Shot the Sheriff," I told him. "Party Poison's team, we've got this. Short Round, Skittles, Speedy, and I, we're takin' care of it."

Pietro and Glenn simply sighed at the nicknames, while Heath called, "Stop calling me Skittles!"

"You're wasting your breath, buddy," Glenn told him as he took out a walker stuck underneath a tractor. "The entire time I've known her, she's called me Short Round. You should feel honored. She gave you a nickname."

"I give a lot of people nicknames," I chimed in. "Just be glad it's flattering."

"Flattering, yeah, okay," Heath sighed.

"It sounds like there's a lot in there," Nicholas remarked as we stepped up to the window.

"We need it quiet," Glenn said.

"So what's the plan?" Pietro inquired, turning to me.

"Dude, I just make this shit up as I go along. We're gonna take 'em out, a few at a time. Glenn, you remember—nevermind, you weren't there."

"What?" Glenn inquired as they followed me around the side of the store.

"When we were clearin' the prison. Rick told Tomas to open one door, control the flow of 'em. That's what we gotta do here. Nicholas, you're on the door. Open it, let one or two out, then you close it. You keep doin' that. That's the trick. that's how we control it. Heath—"

"Wait, what if he can't close it?" Heath interrupted.

"Good question. Don't think 'bout that."

"I'll be able to," Nicholas assured us.

"We take them on if he can't," Glenn added.

"We take them on?" Pietro questioned.

"If we get into trouble, we go behind the building into the woods and we draw them away."

"Hey, you've been out on runs since he got here," Nicholas said, jumping to our defense. "They know what they're doing. Me and Aiden, we didn't."

"I don't like it," Heath sighed. "This was supposed to be a dress rehearsal."

"I'm supposed to be delivering pizzas, man," Glenn laughed.

"I'm supposed to be dead," Pietro said, bringing a darker, solemn tone to the conversation. "Or fighting Hydra with the Avengers."

"I didn't belong nowhere before," I said, drawing my knife. "But here, I've made a livin'. I wouldn't call it a livin', but it's what I do best. I belong in this world. Daryl's leadin' 'em this way. They're closin' in. If we don't want everythin' to go to shit, we gotta do this. And we gotta do it now."

"We don't have any other choice," Heath said. "I'll do it."

"We were gonna do it with or without you, either way," I told him as Glenn pulled out a crowbar, moving forward to pry open the door. Pietro stood ready to run, ready to get Glenn out of the way if the walkers all moved on him at once. Glenn counted down from three, then pried it open. Pietro was gone in a flash, moving Glenn back with us. We all stood in silence, confused when no walkers appeared. Then, I saw there was another door, one that we couldn't open, holding them in. "Shit. Looks like we need a Plan C."

"What the hell was Plan B?" Pietro cried.

"Doin' it today. Glenn, any ideas?"

"Shoot a window out front," Glenn answered. "We're gonna have to take 'em all on, but it's the only other option."

"Good enough for me," I said, leading my team to the front of the store.

"This is a bad idea!" Heath protested.

"It's the only idea!" Pietro snapped.

"I think there's something like a dozen in there," Nicholas said. I smirked at that. Walkers got him shaking in his boots, even after all this time.

"We stay back, get on opposite ends. Draw each of them to us," Glenn said, stepping to one side with Heath.

"What, try and take down two, three each?" Nicholas questioned.

"No, this is just us. You get back, and you stay back," Glenn ordered, passing his walkie over to him. "Things go south, you tell Rick, and you draw 'em away." Nicholas opened his mouth to protest. "Now, Nicholas."

"Damn, Glenn," I said, drawing my gun as Pietro drew his. "You act like we ain't took on a dozen before. Y'all ready?"

"No," Heath answered. "But since you're doing this thing anyway, let's do this."

I laughed at that. "That's the shit I like to hear!"

I raised my gun and fired, breaking the window. Three walkers stumbled out first, and we easily took them down, backing up a few steps when we realized how close we were. As it turned out, there were easily more than a dozen in there, as Glenn emptied his clip, which held seven rounds, and I counted that I fired five shots out of my fifteen round clip so far. Heath dropped his gun as a walkers neared him, throwing up his hands to hold it off. Pietro took off, taking out the walker before running back to my side. Glenn covered him while Heath retrieved his gun, nodding once to thank Pietro. We took a breath as the walkers stopped coming, then looked at one as it got to its feet. Nicholas, who had joined us, looked to Glenn for approval. He nodded once, and Nicholas moved forward, dispatching it. "Whoo, great job, guys," I sighed. "Let's go." As we took off, I took my walkie from my belt, addressing Rick. "Hey, Shot the Sheriff. This is Party Poison. We took care of the walkers. You good at orange?"

"We've got it," Rick replied. "We'll meet you at yellow. Bucky's team is already there."

"See you there."

As we continued on, I heard Heath behind me asking, "Is she okay?"

"She hit her head once, and I don't think she's been the same since," Glenn replied.

"I can hear you, you know," I said, looking over my shoulder at them with a grin. "Hey, I'm just tryin' to make the best out of a dark as hell situation." I looked ahead, seeing the yellow balloons in the distance, the sunlight reflecting off of Steve's shield and Bucky's arm. "C'mon. We're almost there!"

I whistled, getting Bucky's attention as we arrived. Scott and Annie's groups were there as well, and Rick, Michonne, and Morgan joined them right before we got there. "It's working," Carter said, watching as the walkers were drawn away by Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham. "You were right."

Carter held out a hand, which Rick shook before turning to us. "Everyone, we have to finish this," he said. "We have to keep moving and fan out down that thing, front to back. Like we said, cops at a parade." Rick turns to me. "Clary, take your team and take the back. You guys have walkies. Bucky, you take the front. The rest of us, we stay in the middle." Bucky and I nodded, waiting to be dismissed. "If it gets sloppy, we fire our weapons, pull 'em back on track. Go."

Bucky's team took off for the front, while the remaining teams fanned out in the middle. Pietro and I led the way towards the back, joined by Scott's team for a few yards. "Pietro," I said as we reached the back. "I'm giving you a different job."

Pietro nodded me on. "What is it?"

"Use your powers, run back and forth from the back to the front. Make sure everything's going okay. Report back to me."

Pietro nodded, then took off. He was back within thirty seconds, nodding once to tell me it was fine. A few minutes later, Rick said over the walkie, "They're breaking up. Tobin, get 'em back on."

"What do you want us to do?" Tobin questioned.

"Fire your guns. Get 'em back on track."

In the distance, a few seconds later, gunfire erupted. A few moments later, Rick said, "You got 'em, Tobin."

"Copy that. What was that screaming?"

"That was Carter," Rick answered. "He got bit right in the face. I stopped him."

"Rick killed Carter?" Heath questioned, looking over at me.

"He was gonna die anyway," I replied. "Better Rick put him down before—"

I was cut off as a horn blared in the distance. A way off in the east, in the direction of Alexandria. We all stopped in our tracks, looking up at the sound. "What the hell is that?" Glenn asked.

"The plan just got dicked!" I said, seeing the walkers at the back breaking off. "Pietro, you stay right beside me!" I turned and ran the way we just came, towards the horn. "With me! That horn's comin' from home!" I grabbed for the walkie at my belt. "Rick, we got trouble! Back half is breakin' off and headin' back home. They don't know what's comin'!"

"Go!" Rick barked over the walkie. "You get there! You're one of our best fighters! I'm counting on you!"

"Got it," I acknowledged. "I'm sending my team back to you!" I clipped the walkie back onto my belt, turning to Glenn as we ran. "You're in charge. Shit's goin' down back home and Rick's sendin' me. I'm takin' Pietro with me. It sounds like real bad shit, and if I don't make it, well, hell. It was nice knowin' y'all."

"Don't talk like that," Pietro said, stopping to give me time to hop on his back. "But, yeah. What she said."


	4. The New Avengers

**Chapter 3: The New Avengers**

 **Bucky**

"Tobin, it's not stopping," Rick ordered into his walkie as we ran, trying to stay ahead of the back half of the herd. "Light it up! You hear me?" The only reply he got was more static. "Tobin!"

Michonne paused only a second to dispatch a walker before we continued on, one of the younger, inexperienced ones of the group crying, "It was half! Jesus, it was more than half!"

"We've just got to stay ahead of them," Annie told him. "They walk, we run!"

Over the radio, Daryl called, "Rick!"

"I'm here," he replied.

"What's goin' on back there?"

"Shit went south, Ghost Rider," Clary's voice answered. "Half broke off. They're headin' back home."

"Clary, you there?" I asked, knowing she took Pietro with her when she ran.

"Nearly," Pietro said. "We had to stop and get our bearings."

"They're moving towards you?" Abraham questioned.

"We ran ahead," I told him. "There's a horn or something. Loud, comin' from the east. It's not stopping."

"I'm gonna gas it up, turn back," Daryl said, and I could hear him revving his motorcycle engine over the walkie.

"We have it. You keep going."

"They're gonna need our help."

"We've got this shit, Daryl," Clary replied. "You and the angry kamikazes gotta keep the herd movin'."

"Not if it's goin' down, we don't."

"If the rest of that herd turns around, the bad gets worse. You keep that herd movin'. You hear me? Daryl!"

"Yeah, I heard you," Daryl answered after a moment. As I ran, I got the feeling that even though he said he was going to continue, Daryl was going to end up turning back, knowing that his sister's there, fighting whatever's coming. Daryl may be a man of his word, but if his sister's in danger, then any promise he makes means jack shit.

* * *

 **Wanda**

"Carl," I said as I watched the murder of an Alexandrian woman by a man with a machete. "Get your gun. We're in trouble."

"Wanda?" he questioned, running to join me at the window. "Oh my god…"

He dashed away, and I joined him at the stairs, where he was armed with his machine gun. I followed him down, and Carol met us, drawing her gun. "We saw it from upstairs," Carl said. "They're comin' in from all over."

"You two have to stay here and keep Judith safe," Carol ordered, then turned and ran out of the house, not giving either of us enough time to argue.

"I'm going out there," I said, following Carol out the door.

"Wanda! Wait up!" he called after me.

"No," I said, turning to face him. "Look, I get you wanting to go out and fight. I need you here, to protect Judith. Hold down our base. I'm going out there 'cause it's my job. And I can't do my job and babysit."

"I have to fight! This is my home, too!"

"You can still fight, but you have to stay at the house to protect Judith. You're one of us now. Welcome to the Avengers."

Carl smiled, stepping back. "I'll make you proud, Wanda."

"Carl, if you have to go out, then you have to fight," I told him. "And you fight to kill."

* * *

 **Clary**

"Spencer!" I shouted, seeing the guard standing by the truck that had run into the wall. Pietro echoed my call as he slowed to a stop, "Spencer!"

"Clary?" he replied, leaning around the debris of the guard tower to look at us. "Pietro? Over here!"

Pietro skidded to a halt by him, straightening up as I slid off of his back. "Spencer?" I asked, looking up at him. "The hell's goin' on?"

"A group, they got inside the walls," Spencer answered. "They're ruthless. They burned our people alive."

"Pietro," I whispered, reaching behind me for his hand. He stepped closer to me, leaning down so I could speak in his ear. "I've killed… and I burned their bodies. I don't know if I can do this."

"Clary, listen to me," Pietro said, leaning down to look in my eyes. "It doesn't matter what you did, what you were. If you go out there, you fight, and you fight to kill. You stay out here, you're good. You can get in the truck and stay safe, I'll find you after. But if you climb over that wall, you are an Avenger. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find my sister."

Without another word, Pietro climbed over the wall, and Spencer placed a hand on my shoulder, saying, "C'mon, get inside the truck with my mom. You'll be safe there."

"No, I got somethin' I gotta do," I said, following Pietro's lead and climbing over the wall. Pietro glanced at me as I dropped down beside him, smiling softly. "I knew you'd come. Welcome to the team."

"Livin' the dream," I told him, drawing my knife as he took off to find Wanda. I froze when I saw the carnage before me. The people that I was too late to save, their bodies mutilated by these people. Arm and legs cut off, or their bodies burned. I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye, and ducked just in time, the knife missing my head by an inch. I punched my attacker in the face, and he stumbled back a few feet. He swung his machete around, glaring at me, and I questioned, "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

I waited a second for him to get done with his _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ knife show, then raised my gun, firing once. He dropped to the ground, and I moved to stand over him, studying him as I looked down at him. I knelt when I saw the W carved into his forehead, just like the walkers Rick, Daryl, Carol, and I saw before the night everything changed here in Alexandria.

It was then that I came to a grim realization. I always thought that whoever put the W in the walkers forehead did it to mark them as _walkers_ , but just then, I knew. _It stands for Wolves. These are the people that took out Noah's home._

I scrambled to my feet, taking off for the house or the Maximoff twins, praying that I would get there before the Wolves. I heard static crackle on the walkie at my belt, and I ducked into a backyard, keeping my back against one wall and eyes on my surroundings. "Clary?" Daryl questioned. "What's goin' on back there?"

"Now really ain't a good time, Daryl," I replied.

"What's goin' on?"

I paused, then answered. "We're under attack."

I could hear him cussing from the other end, then he said, "That's it. I'm comin' to you."

"Daryl! The fuck did I say?"

"I don't give a shit, Cheyenne. Shit's goin' down and you need help."

"I've got it under control. Don't you dare—oh _fuck!"_

I dropped the walkie as I saw a Wolf come around the edge of the house, blade swinging. I threw up my hands, trying to block the blade, and I managed to stop it a few inches away from my face. He was strong, and it was taking all of my strength to fend him off. I couldn't kill him on my own. Over the radio, I could hear Daryl calling my name. In a hope that he was close enough to hear, I cried, "Pietro!"

In an instant, the Wolf was thrown off of me, and I caught the knife before it could hit the ground. "He's mine," I called, and Pietro stepped aside to allow me to sink the knife into the bad guy's head.

"You hurt?" Pietro questioned, and I shook my head.

"Cheyenne!" Daryl shouted over the walkie. "Answer me!"

Pietro took off to help who he could, and I scooped the walkie back up, lifting it as I ran. "I ran into a bit of trouble," I told him. "I'm kinda in the middle of fightin' for my life, so I could do without the courtesy calls."

I cut through backyards as I ran for our street, for our house. I raised my gun as I saw a Wolf chasing Jessie's boy, Ron, but a gunshot rang out before I could fire. The Wolf dropped to the ground, and Ron ran off to the side, away from him. I lowered my gun, slowly making my way forward as Carl descended the porch steps, machine gun raised. "Please don't kill me," I could hear the Wolf begging. "Please!"

He begged as Carl stepped closer, then grabbed the barrel of the gun, struggling for control of it. I took aim, but Carl fired before I could once again. The Wolf released the gun, falling back with one hand over his shoulder. "Please," he begged, sincere now. "Have mercy."

"An enemy deserves no mercy," Carl said, then fired. I turned just as I heard a cry of pain, only to find a Wolf that was sneaking up on me falling to his knees, wisps of red around him. _Wanda._ I drove my knife into the Wolf's head, and the red disappeared. I looked around for the scarlet witch, and spotted her down the street, Pietro by her side. "Clary!"

I turned at the sound of Carl's voice, then grabbed my knife, sprinting to the other teenagers after acknowledging Wanda with a wave of my hand. I didn't bother looking over my shoulder for any more of the Wolves, knowing Wanda had my back. Carl lowered his machine gun, pulling me into a one-armed hug. I pulled away from him, but he rested a hand on my shoulder, keeping me close. "You alright? Pietro said you ran into trouble."

"I'm good," I told him. "The hell's goin' on here?"

"We're under attack," Enid said.

I looked around Carl at her. "Yeah, no fucking shit, Sherlock. I figured it was the Wolves. How long's this been goin' on?"

"The horn. That was right after the start," Carl said.

"Pietro and I got here a minute or two after it stopped. Spencer said there were a lot. You got a number on 'em?"

"Don't know how many there are. They don't have guns."

"They would've used 'em if they did," I said, glancing around. "Taken this place in a matter of minutes." I looked back up at Carl. "Judy's safe, inside?"

"That's the priority." Carl glanced around at Enid, Ron, and I. "We gotta get back in. Ron, come inside."

"Hell no," Ron said.

"Ron, I can protect you. We can. Just come inside with us."

"I ain't going anywhere with you," Ron snapped, then stormed off.

Carl took my hand as they started for the door, but the steps were as far as I went. "Clary, what're you doing?" Carl asked, looking down at me from a few steps up. He tugged on my hand. "Come on!"

"This is what I do, Carl," I told him, staying where I was. "I'm out here 'cause it's my job. You protect Judy and the house, and I got Alexandria."

"Funny," Carl said, chuckling without humor. "Wanda said the same thing."

"Shoot to thrill, play to kill," I said, stepping backwards, knowing that Pietro was on his way here. "And the game, my dear Grimes, is on."

Pietro slowed only for a second to pick me up, then took off again, running away from the house. "You seen Stark?" I asked him as he ran.

"I was going to ask you that," he replied.

"Get me to the armory. That's how we end this."

Pietro dropped me off outside the armory as one of the Wolves fired on their own, and I aimed my gun at them. I didn't give two shits that they killed the enemy, but more about the fact that they had a gun. "What the hell are you doin' here?" I demanded.

"Two at four o'clock," a familiar voice said, and I didn't waste time turning and putting two rounds in the heads of the Wolves.

I turned back to the Wolf, telling her, "Nice disguise, Carol. Fooled me."

I followed her down the stairs, into the armory. I paused as I heard footsteps behind me, then turned and fired on the Wolf that followed us. "There's someone in there," Carol whispered, gesturing to the closet.

I raised my gun, stepping forward. Carol stayed to the side, opening the door for me. A gun was raised in my direction, and I cried, "Stark! Don't shoot!"

"Clary?" he questioned, lowering the gun as he stepped out, away from Olivia, the woman in charge of the pantry and armory. Carol, still in her disguise, stepped out from behind the door, knife still raised. Olivia cried, "Please don't kill me!"

"Carol, put the damn knife down," I ordered. "It's Stark and Olivia." To Stark, I questioned, "Is there anyone else down here?"

"No," Stark answered, with a shake of his head. "It's just us. I grabbed Olivia and pulled her in the closet when it started. I wasn't sure how many there were."

"Stark, get a gun and come with me. Carol, load up on guns and get 'em to everyone else."

Stark did as I said, tossing me a second clip as I refilled my nearly empty one. I slid it into my gun, pulling back the barrel back to put a round in the chamber. "Find Pietro," I ordered as we exit, guns raised in case we saw one of the Wolves. "Tell him to get guns from Carol and get 'em to everyone."

"Yes, ma'am," Stark said, then turned to run off.

"And hey!" He stopped, turning to look back at me. "Stay safe." Stark nodded once before disappearing down a street, and I ran the other way, the way Carol came. I ran over to Father Gabriel when I saw him kneeling over someone, Morgan on his knees beside him. "Morgan!" The two turned as I slowed to a halt. "Rick sent you?"

"Yeah," Morgan answered. "To tell them we were doing it today. Why are you here?"

"You don't gotta be Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. Shit was goin' down, and I was sent. Do the math." I looked down at the Wolf as he opened his eyes. "What the hell is he doin' alive?"

"We're freeing you," the Wolf bullshitted. "You're trapped. You need to know, people don't belong here anymore."

I cut him off by firing my gun, snapping, "Shut the fuck up."

Then, I saw two holes in his head, instead of the one from my gun. I turned as a Wolf stepped up, gun raised. _No, Carol. The wolf in sheep's clothing._ She passed the gun she just fired to Gabriel, digging a second out of her bag to give to Morgan. "You've got enough ammo?" she questioned.

"Got two full clips, minus one bullet," I replied. Pietro arrived next to her, lowering Wanda to the ground as soon as he stopped. "Pietro, what's the sitch?"

"Second wave came in, over the walls. Came from the southwest."

"Southwest? Oh my god, Carl. I need their number!"

"Not nearly as large as the first, but close. Maybe ten of them."

"I counted nine," Wanda chimed in.

"Great," I said. "I can do it with one mag."

"You can't take them all on yourself," Carol protested.

"Spread out," I ordered. "Find 'em, and kill 'em. They attacked us. So we attack 'em back. They don't get to live. Find Stark, the others fightin'. Tell 'em the same thing. Pietro, warn Carl first, tell him to stay in the house. Wanda, do your mind thing on the Wolves. Take 'em out of the fight so we can take 'em out."

The trio before me nodded once, showing that they understood their orders. I looked back over the two peace loving men, wondering what job I could give them. Before I could, Morgan handed his gun over to Gabriel. The Father told him, "I'm not very good with guns."

Morgan walked off, not giving two shits that Gabriel couldn't shoot. I turned to him. "You know how to fire one?"

"Not exactly," Gabriel answered honestly.

I pulled him over to a garage, forcing him to stand with his back against the wall. "You stand here like this, the wall covers your back. You see one of those bastards, you aim, squeeze the trigger, and you don't stop until that son of a bitch is on the ground."

* * *

 **Pietro**

Everything that could've gone wrong with Clary's plan, pretty much did. I gathered Aaron, Rosita, and Stark to our crew, Maggie having headed to the infirmary to see if she would be of use there. Clary met us in front of the infirmary, Carol joining her as she arrived and passing ammo to Aaron, Rosita, and Stark. "They're staying together," I informed Clary after taking a quick run by the second wave. "As a group. They've got machetes, an axe. That's all I saw. There could be more."

"The others didn't, but they could have guns," Clary said. "Treat the situation like they do."

"Wouldn't they have been the first wave, then?" Wanda questioned. "If they had guns, why not use them right away?"

"That's a good question that I don't know the answer to," Clary answered. "Okay, so they probably don't. I think we'd be okay to go in assumin' they don't, but keep your guard up. Pietro, be ready for extraction if we need it. Codeword, Dunkirk. Listen for that. Get Wanda first, everyone else after her, 'cause I know that's where your priorities are. I'm last. Everyone else, you hear 'Dunkirk,' you turn tail. Pietro'll get you out."

Everyone nodded, showing they understood her plan. I leaned down next to her as she turned to lead the way, whispering, "Welcome to the Avengers. We needed a hero like you."

"I'm not a hero," Clary argued, taking off at a run for where the Wolves were last spotted. We came face to face with them as they turned a corner, and we spread out, blocking their path. To the Wolves, Clary called out, "You're not welcome here."

"You don't belong here," the Wolf in the lead called. "We're freeing you. People don't belong here anymore."

"Yeah, so I've heard," Clary replied. "One of your buddies was sayin' the same thing before I put a bullet in his head."

I saw the sunlight glint off of the metal only after it was fired, and Wanda cried out, dropping to the ground. "Vatican cameos!" Clary shouted, and the others ran for cover. "Cover the twins! Get her to the infirmary!"

The others covered me while I ran for Wanda, picking her up and running for the infirmary. Eugene opened the door for me when I arrived, and I put Wanda down on a table. "Go," Wanda told me, pressing a hand over the wound in her leg. "They need you. I'll be alright."

"Wanda…" I whispered.

"Go," Eugene repeated. "It looks like it's just a flesh wound. I can take care of her."

I hesitated for a long minute until Wanda said, "You've got a responsibility, you know. You _are_ older, remember?"

I turned and ran back to the firefight, dropping down beside Clary behind the stairs to the Grimes house. The door was open, and I could see Carl couching, armed. "Clary!" he shouted. "Need any help?"

"Get upstairs! Snipe 'em!" she barked as she stood, drawing their fire away from the house as she ran across the street. "Now, Carl!"

While she took her eyes off of the Wolves, I kept my eyes on them, watching her back. I scanned the road and the other houses for where they were hiding, and saw one just as he fired, nearly point blank, at Clary. I didn't have enough time to get there _and_ get her out of the way, only enough time to get there. I ran, getting there just in time to jump in front of a bullet to save her. I cried out at the pain in my shoulder, but I knew that it was worth it because Clary was still here. Clary looked up at me, eyes widening in shock as she realized what happened. I tried to grin, asking, "You didn't see that coming?"

"Pietro!" Clary cried as I fell against her on my way to the ground, everything fading in and out. She came with me, catching me as I hit. "Pietro! Stay with me! You're not clockin' out on me today!" I lifted my eyes as I heard a gunshot beside me, looking up to see Clary firing on the Wolf that shot me and his buddies. "Carl!"

Gunshots rang out from the house, Carl picking off the Wolves. Rosita and Aaron ran to us, Rosita dropping to her knees beside us while Aaron joined Clary in putting the Wolves down. The gunfire stopped, and I tried to cry out as Rosita pressed her hands against the wound in my back, but no sound came out. "Pietro, c'mon," Clary begged. "Say somethin'. Anythin'. Please. Stay with me."

Her voice, her pleas, faded as everything went black.

* * *

 **Clary**

I sat, half asleep, in the chair by Pietro's bed, waiting for him to wake up. I closed my eyes, not to sleep, but to listen. First, to the walkers surrounding us twenty deep. Glenn didn't set the fire he said he was going to as a way of distracting the herd, so they're here now. They're here, we're surrounded, Glenn might be dead, and Daryl, Sasha, and Abe are stuck out there if they're not dead, too. I opened my eyes as I heard a groan, followed by a whispered, "Clary."

"I'm here, Pietro," I told him, moving to sit with him in the bed, taking his right hand in mine. "I'm here. It's alright." Pietro slowly opened the blue eyes I thought I wouldn't see again, murmured my name, then closed them again. "Pietro, you scared the hell out of me. I thought I was gonna lose you. I can't lose you, too." His hand tightened around mine, a way of saying he was there without speaking. "We're surrounded. Alexandria, the back half of the herd. Glenn was gonna draw the herd, but it's here. I… Somethin' went wrong. I don't think he's comin' back."

Pietro opened his eyes at that, then pulled his hand free to push himself up. He groaned as he moved his injured arm, lying back down. Instead, he took my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered. "It's gonna work out."

"You took that bullet," I said, looking down at the gauze taped to his shoulder. "For me. Pietro, you could've just pushed me out of the way. But you took it."

"I didn't have time to get you clear," Pietro told me. "I only had enough time to get there. One of us was going to take a bullet, and it would've killed you."

"Maybe I deserve to die. After all that I've done."

"I didn't take a bullet for you to be talking like that."

"Then why did you?"

"Because it's what we do, Clary. You know that. I took that shot so you could keep talking." He paused, cleared his throat, then spoke with a Southern accent that was supposed to be mine. "So I could hear that pretty little Southern accent again."

"For a while there," I said, imitating his accent, "I wasn't sure I'd hear that sexy accent again." He grinned, and I leaned forward, serious as I asked, "And what do you mean by 'we?'"

"It's what we do. We protect each other. Like I said, welcome to the Avengers."

I sat back in my chair, drawling, "Yeah, I didn't see that coming."


	5. Heads Up

**Chapter 4: Heads Up**

 **Glenn**

 _I lived._

Nicholas had died, but I _lived._ If I could get back home, I would get to be safe again. I'd get to be with my family again. And after that, I wasn't leaving them again. I wasn't leaving Rick, I wasn't leaving Clary, Michonne, Carl. I was never leaving Maggie. All I had to do was get back home where my family was.

Those thoughts were what kept me sane through the night, staring out at the body of Nicholas, torn apart by the walkers when we fell. He was dead already, killing himself when we were surrounded by the dead. He fell, and he took me with him.

My remaining water ran out sometime in the early morning, long before the sun was up. Walkers still crowded around the dumpster, and by mid-morning, the sun having been up for a few hours, they were all gone. I crawled out from under the dumpster, searching for Nicholas's water bottle. I raised it to my lips, but it was empty. I threw it to the ground in frustration. I was at least three miles from home, stuck without any ammo, food, or water. _The flare gun_ , I thought _._ _If I can signal the others, they could come get me._ I searched for it, pulling aside bodies, and when I did find it, it was broken. I cursed under my breath, but I found my gun, bending down to pick it up. "Hey, heads up!" a girl's voice called from above, and I looked up just as a water bottle hit the ground, water spilling out. "Shit. I said heads up!"

I looked up, unable to see most of her features due to the sun, and I didn't focus on her voice, only her words. "Clary?" I asked. "I thought you were back at Alexandria."

"She is," she replied. "But guess again, dumbass."

I blinked, recognizing the figure now. "Enid?"

She turned and ran off, disappearing from the rooftop. I grabbed my bag, climbing into the building through a window. I kept my knife out just in case, but I'd imagine that she's already cleared it. "Enid?" I asked. "What're you doing out here?"

"There's another water bottle in the corner," came her reply. "Take it and go."

I found it where she said it was, taking a few sips. I wanted to drink more of it, but I stopped myself, knowing that it was going to have to last me until I could get back to Alexandria. I looked around, seeing the blanket and the opened cans around me. She must have been staying here. "You're not gonna answer me?" I asked.

"No," she answered.

I sighed. "What happened in Alexandria?" I got to my feet, starting towards where I heard her voice come from. "We heard that sound. The gunfire. Enid!"

"What happened is what always happens," Enid replied. "People died."

"The herd broke through the walls?"

"What herd?"

"The walkers. They broke out of the quarry early. We got on them, but that sound, the air horn, what was that? Rick sent Clary, but she never told us."

"It was people. You should go."

Above me, floorboards creaked. "My wife, Maggie, she okay?" She didn't reply. "Enid? Is Maggie okay? Answer me!"

I ran upstairs, shouting after Enid, only to find she wasn't up there. I climbed out the window, running out onto the roof, as she ran down the alley away from me. I ran back inside, towards the fire escape, and climbed down, jumping off about halfway down. I took off after her, watching as she disappeared around a corner, down the street. I was torn between going after her, like Maggie would want me to, and heading on home, saving myself before someone that's not family, like Clary would. I stood there for a minute, torn, before making my decision. I started down the road, going the same way as Enid.

* * *

 **Clary**

"Rick!" I called, running after him as I saw him walk down the street. "Hey, Rick?"

"Everything okay?" he asked, turning to look at me as I caught up to him. "Clary? How's the twins?"

"Yeah, they're fine," I told him, nodding once. "I just needed to talk to you. What're we gonna do about the herd?"

"I'm tryin' to think," he answered, gesturing for me to walk with him. "The walls'll hold. We're reinforcing where the truck hit just in case. We can think this through. Do it right this time."

"If we can get a partin' in them, I can make a run for it and get a car. Draw 'em away."

Rick shook his head. "You can't go alone. You need someone to watch your back, to help you. You'll get yourself killed if you go out there alone."

"What does it matter?" I muttered. "Glenn's dead."

"He's not," Rick says, stopping to look down at me. "He's gonna be back."

"We would've gotten some signal by now. Anythin'. Glenn would've found a way to tell us that he's alive if he was." I looked up at him. "Glenn's dead, Rick. Accept it." I looked down at my hands as I clasped them in front of me. "Y'know, I always thought it'd be Daryl dyin' that would make me stop. But it ain't. Glenn's dead, and I don't know if I can do this any more."

"You have to," Rick said, taking my hands, kneeling to look up at me. "You have to keep going, Clary. We can't do this without you. None of us. We need you. Didn't I once tell you that I'm counting on you?"

Slowly, I met his eyes. "You did…"

"Glenn will be back, okay? We just don't know what happened."

"I don't know what happened to him." I closed my eyes, falling to my knees in front of Rick. "We're never gonna know. He's dead and we're never gonna know how."

I tried to pull away from him as Rick wrapped an arm around me, not trusting him enough to, but he wrapped his other arm around me, holding me against his chest. "Let me go," I muttered, still trying to free myself.

He shushed me, muttering, "I'm sorry, Clary. I know you thought you were always going to be there to protect him." I let out a sob at that, one that I hadn't realized I had been holding in. "But he's alive. He's going to come back to us. He's going to come back to Maggie. To you."

"The world's tryin' to die, Rick. And it's takin' all of us with it."

"It's not," Rick argued, looking down at me. "It's not trying to die. And it ain't takin' us with it."

"Why can't we just let it?"

"Because that's not the way we do things. We're gonna live, Clary, 'cause we fought to. We get the walkers away, and we can fix this place up. We can live here. Our fight can be done."

"The fight ain't over till one of us is dead. Either all of them, or all of us."

"Clary, look at me. C'mon, please, look at me." After a moment, I hesitantly looked up at him, and he wiped the tears from my eyes with one hand, smoothing my hair back with the other. "The fight can be over without people, our people, dying."

"Can it, Rick? I mean, can it really? What 'bout the ones out there, the people like the Governor. Do they get to live when this is over?"

"I-I-I don't know. I don't know. Maybe the ones that are too far gone, maybe those are the ones that gotta die. But maybe some people can still come back."

"You can't go back, Rick. The shit that's happened, what we've done, that makes you who you are. Everything that's happened to us, it doesn't just disappear. It's who we are."

"We've just gotta keep our heads," Rick said, pulling me to my feet. "We've gotta keep 'em on our shoulders. Not lose ourselves. And we've gotta keep our heads up, 'cause we're gonna be okay." He pulled me into a one armed hug, kissing my forehead. "I promise, Clary. We're gonna be okay." He released me, starting off, then turned and looked back at me. "C'mon. Walk with me."

I hesitated for a moment, then joined him as we walked through the streets of Alexandria, silent. As we passed the house serving as the hospital, he called, "Morgan!" I followed his gaze to where the peace lover stood on the porch. "Can we talk now?"

Morgan nodded, bade Denise, who stood in the doorway, goodbye, then joined Rick and I as we headed back to the house. Rick sent me to get Michonne and Carol, who followed me as we walked back to them. Morgan sat on one side of the table, Carol, Rick, and Michonne on the other. I stood behind them, arms crossed, silent. Morgan looked at them curiously, asking, "What's going on?"

"When I was comin' back," Rick started, clearing his throat. "I tried to cut off the herd with the RV. Lead the walkers away. But five of those people with the W in their foreheads, the Wolves, they stopped me. They tried to kill me, shot up the RV. Now, Carol says she saw you. That you wouldn't kill those people."

"Did you let any of them go?" Carol questioned.

"Yes, I did," Morgan answered, as if it's something to be proud of. "I didn't want to kill five people I didn't have to kill."

"They burned people alive."

"Yeah." Morgan sat back, turning to Rick. "Why didn't you kill me, Rick, back in King County? Pulled a knife on you. I stabbed you. I nearly killed Clary. So why didn't you kill me? Was it 'cause I saved you after the hospital?"

"'Cause I knew who you were," Rick answered.

"Back there I would have killed you as soon as look at you. And I tried."

I leaned forwards between Rick and Michonne, slamming my hand on the table as I leaned down, to Morgan's level. "I wouldn't have a single damn problem killin' you on the spot, right now," I barked. "You nearly got my blood killed. More than once. And I don't give a damn that you mighta saved 'em in the past. In the beginnin', no one knew what the hell they were doin'. Everyone tried to save everyone, but you don't get to save people no more. What happened in the early days is worth jack shit. What you do now, that's what matters. I could put a bullet between your eyes and not have a single regret."

"But you won't," Morgan said calmly, looking up at me. "'Cause I was there to help Aaron and Daryl. See, if I wasn't there, if they died, maybe those Wolves wouldn't've been able to come back here."

"What happened yesterday ain't on them! Those people, those Wolves, they came here 'cause they's evil sons of bitches that you let live! It's on _you._ " I pulled out my gun, pressing the end of the barrel against Morgan's forehead. "I'd rather kill you as soon as look at you."

"Clary!" Rick barked, the chair scraping the floor as he got to his feet. "That's enough!"

"Yeah," I agreed, moving my finger towards the trigger. "That is enough."

The next thing I knew, Michonne's sword was at my neck. "Clary," she hissed. "Lower the gun. Don't make me do this."

I still didn't put my gun down, and Rick stepped forward, moving to take my gun. I spun away from the katana, punching Rick and taking my gun back. "Don't touch my fuckin' gun," I snapped, then turned to Morgan. "Don't touch my fuckin' family. Make one more move that nearly kills one of mine. Go ahead. I'll pull the damn trigger next time." I holstered my gun, making one more remark before I turned and walked away. "You and your 'all life is precious' shit."

I let the door slam shut behind me, storming down the steps. I walked down the street, scanning porches and watch posts for Bucky. I found him sitting on our porch steps, sharpening his knife. I took a seat on the step below him, both of us silent for a long time. I finally broke it by whispering, "Help me, Buck."

"Clary?" he questioned, putting down his knife and moving down a step to sit beside me. "Clary, what's going on? Are you hurt? Who was it? Whose ass do I have to kick?"

"Mine," I whispered in reply, my voice shaking. "I'm losin' myself, Buck. I don't know who I am." Bucky took my hands in his, pulling me against his chest. "Help me, Buck. Please. I don't want to lose myself. Help me."

"Shh," Bucky shushed me. "It'll be okay. I'll make it right. You did something. You wouldn't be saying this, you wouldn't be have come to me if you didn't. What'd you do?"

"Morgan. I nearly killed Morgan. I'm scared, James, that next time, I won't stop. I've never killed anyone in cold blood. I―I mean, I've killed in self-defense, like with the Wolves and Terminus. I've put people down 'cause they were bit or weren't going to make it. I mean, the Governor, I killed him to end it, and Tara's sister, she wouldn't've survived. I watched a walker nearly grab her. And with Karen and David, we were tryin' to stop the disease from spreadin'. With all of them, I had reasons. But with Morgan, I'd be killing him in cold blood. Killin' him just to kill him. I may be a killer, but that's not who I am. I don't think it's who I am. I don't know who I am anymore."

"You're Clary Dixon," Bucky said. "You're a survivor that'll do anything to keep her family safe. You're Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon, and you're my best girl. You're a fighter that never gives up, no matter how bad things get."

"James, I… I might have to give up."

"No, don't you dare. Don't you dare give up on me. You've stuck through it all. You're strong because you've been in this fight. You're gonna beat it." Bucky pressed his lips to my forehead, murmuring, "Always keep fighting. I don't mean physically fight, either. Know, Clary, I'm always gonna be here for you when you need it, and even when you don't. No matter what. I'm always gonna be there to protect you. You got anything, you need anyone to talk to, just find me. You know I'll always be there for you."

I leaned into him, pressing my cheek into his chest. "Sometimes death seems better than all of this."

"Live, Clary, please," he pleaded. "Suicide doesn't end the pain. It just passes it on to someone else. That's not who you are, is it? No, it's not. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders so someone else doesn't have to. You're not the type of person that would be willing to pass the pain on to someone else. Keep fighting for us, for Daryl, for Glenn, for Carl. For them. _For me._ Don't leave me, Clary."

* * *

Sitting in the shade cast by the wall, my back pressed against it, it was almost peaceful. You could try to, and almost, forget that on the other side of that wall, there were enough walkers to surround us twenty deep. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sound of the walkers, but it didn't work. It never does. You can never ignore it. Whatever it is, whether it's walkers, pain, or people, it doesn't go away. You just make room for it.

I opened my eyes as I heard metal scraping, scrambling away from the wall as I thought the walkers were breaking in. I scanned the wall, searching for any place where it was folding in, waiting for the walkers to break through. I got to my feet as I saw they weren't coming in, but then what was making the sound? I backpedalled away from the wall, looking up for the source, only to stop in my tracks when I saw Spencer, hanging on a wire, as he tried to cross the walkers from above them. "Oh, shit," I breathed, taking off for the watch platform Spencer climbed off of. "He's goin' over."

I scrambled up the ladder, barking, "Spencer! What the hell are you doin'?"

He ignored me, continuing to inch his way across the rope, hands and feet wrapped around it. I glanced over my shoulder as Rick, climbing up with me, shouted, "Spencer! Get back here!"

"C'mon, man!" I tried. "Get back!"

From the next platform over, Tara called, "Spencer! Spencer, move!"

The grappling hook he tossed across shifted, causing Spencer to drop. He hung on by his hands, his feet brushing the hands of the walkers. "Spence! Keep goin'!" I barked, as he was more than halfway across. "Go!"

Just as I said that, the rope snapped, and Spencer was falling, swinging back towards the wall. A few walkers were knocked down, and Spencer fell to the ground with them. I glanced over as Tara started firing her gun, taking down walkers closest to Spencer as he started climbing. Rick took the rope, trying to pull him up as Tobin joined us, giving Rick a hand. I climbed over the side, balancing myself on one of the support beams, as I followed Tara's lead in firing on the walkers. I looked at my gun as I ran out of ammo, Spencer still not up the wall. Bucky and Morgan arrived, and together, the four men hauled Spencer up the wall. He kicked out as he neared the top, and I let out a cry as he struck me. I lost my footing, grabbing for the edge of the wall as I fell, Michonne crying my name. My hand missed, and I hit the ground, surrounded by walkers without any ammo. Not even the last bullet. Up shit creek without a paddle, but everything in shit creek wanted to eat you. I tried to hold off a walker that fell on top of me, screaming, "Bucky!"

Before I even finished his name, a gun fired, and the walker on me was dead. The others on the platforms fired, holding off the walkers while Bucky climbed over, balancing on a support beam. He reached down, and I knew he had to be panicking if he was using his left arm. He avoiding contact as much as possible with that arm, scared of his own strength, thinking that he was going to hurt someone. I took his hand, and he pulled me up onto the support beam with him, wrapping his arm around my waist as he held me to his chest. I wrapped my arms around him, not letting go as he climbed back across, and neither did he. Rick placed a hand on my back, asking, "You bit?" I shook my head. "You okay?"

I didn't answer, just leaned in closer to Bucky. He murmured, "You alright?"

"No," I whispered, switching to Russian so only he would understand. "I'm scared. I'm scared to die. I don't wanna die, but I want it to be over."

"I know," he replied in the same language. "It's okay. You're okay now."

For once, I actually believed it. I truly believed Bucky when he said it was okay, even when it wasn't. But that didn't matter, 'cause it was Bucky and he was always there, through thick and thin. He was always there to save me when I needed him.

"Tara!" Rick yelled across to the other platform. "You almost died once for these people!"

"What?" she replied.

"What the hell were you doin'?" Rick turned to me. "And you! What the hell were you thinkin'? You'd be dead if it weren't for Bucky!"

"Hey, Rick!" Tara yelled, and he turned as she raised her hand, flipping him off. "Leave her alone!"

Below me, Spencer said, "Lost a damn shoe. Crap."

"You're lucky you didn't lose your life," I snapped.

"He very well still might," Bucky growled, releasing his hold on me. I dropped down to the floor of the platform, watching as Bucky wrapped his hand around Spencer's throat, lifting him up off the ground. "What the fuck do you think you were doing? You kicked her to the _fucking walkers!"_

"Bucky!" Rick cried, placing a hand on top of Bucky's metal arm. Bucky shoved him away, his attention on Spencer, who clawed at the metal hand wrapped around his throat. "Bucky, stop! Clary!"

"I'm sorry," Spencer choked out.

"You're sorry? You're _fucking sorry?_ Well, that just makes it all okay now, doesn't it? Doesn't it!" Bucky lifted Spencer higher, out over the walkers now. "If I wasn't there, she'd _be dead right now! Because of you!"_

"Bucky, I'm gonna give you one chance to put him down," Rick threatened, pressing the barrel of his gun to Bucky's temple.

"James," I said. "Put him down. He's not worth your life. Not to me."

Bucky reluctantly put Spencer back on the watch platform, stepping back to me. He pulled me to my feet, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me against him. He nervously drummed his fingers against my side, and I wrapped an arm around him, knowing he wasn't quite ready to let me go after that near-death experience. Spencer looked up at me from where he was on the ground, rubbing his throat. "I'm so sorry," he rasped. "Clary, I swear, I didn't try to kick you off."

"I don't give a shit," I replied, not realizing until afterwards that I let the emotion, my fear, shine through, showing in my voice. "You did it anyway. What the hell were you doing?"

"I was trying to help. I wanted to get a car, draw them away."

"Have you ever made a climb like that before?" Rick questioned. "You want to help, don't make us come runnin' to save your ass. You got an idea, you come to me."

Spencer looked up at my leader. "Would you have listened to me?" Rick was silent, and that was the only answer Spencer needed. "That's what I thought."

He got to his feet, ignoring us as he climbed down the ladder. After a moment, I pulled away from Bucky, following Spencer down the ladder. Bucky was right behind me, extending his hand for me to take. I ignored his right hand, choosing instead to take his metal hand. He tensed, nervous; but he didn't pull away. "Where are we heading?" Bucky questioned.

"Armory, but it can wait if you want," I answered, glancing up at him.

He shook his head. "No, let's go." Bucky looked down as he noticed I was limping slightly. "You okay?"

"I hurt my ankle when I hit the ground," I answered. "I'll be fine."

"I know you'll be fine, but are you okay right now? Does it hurt to walk on it?"

"I won't say it doesn't," I answered after a moment. Bucky released my hand, then crouched down, allowing me to climb on his back. As he straightened, I closed my eyes, resting my head against his back. "You're the best, Buck. I don't know what I would've done if you didn't save me from Woodbury."

"You would've found a way out," Bucky answered. "You would've been alright."

"You always say that," I told him. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I owe a lot more than my life to you."

"Just keep living, and that'll be enough." Bucky climbed the stairs to the house that served as the pantry and armory, knocking on the door and leaning inside. "Hey," he said.

Olivia looked up at the sound of his voice, grinning. "Hey yourself. What was that gunfire?"

"Spencer being a dumbass," I answered. "Wasted bullets saving his ass. And then I had to be saved by Bucky."

Olivia shook her head. "They weren't wasted. You saved Deanna's son. And they were definitely used for good, saving you. After you saved us yesterday."

"I killed her other one," I replied, sliding off Bucky's back as he stepped inside. "Does that really make up for it?" Olivia looked down, and I asked, "You mind if we head back?"

"Go right ahead," she told me. "Like I said, you saved us yesterday. Go ahead back anytime. Just make sure to tell me or write it down when you take something so I can record it."

"Thanks, Olivia," I said, heading into the armory. Bucky and I separated, him heading to one corner of the room while I headed to the other. I picked up the first box of ammo I saw, then froze when I found how light it was. I tilted it, expecting a few bullets to rattle, but there was nothing. It was empty, and Olivia never leaves empty boxes lying around. Someone had to have snuck in here, stolen the ammo. I dropped the box, backing away, as I realized who would've. "Clary?" Bucky questioned, putting down the box he was holding. He crossed the room in a few strides, taking my hands in his as he knelt to look up at me. "Clary? What is it? C'mon, Clars, answer me! Olivia!"

Bucky turned as Olivia arrived, asking, "What's going on?"

"Something's wrong," Bucky said, then turned back to me. "Cheyenne! Answer me!"

"Carl's in danger," I finally said, putting it all together. "Carl's in danger."

"What?" Bucky questioned. "What're you talking about? Carl's fine. I just saw him, not even ten minutes ago."

"Olivia, you never leave empty boxes lying around. Someone was in here, stole ammo. Now, Buck, who would be out gunnin' for Rick? Not to kill him, but hurt him? The same way Rick hurt him? Think, Buck. Who has somethin' against Rick?"

"Oh my god," Bucky said as he understood. He got to his feet, grabbing his gun and following me out the door.

"Wait!" Olivia cried. "Who is it?"

I paused at the door, Bucky by my side as always. "Ron Anderson."

* * *

 **Glenn**

"Oh my god," Enid breathed as we took in the walkers surrounding the community. "I've never seen that many walkers."

"I've come close, but never that many," I said, thinking back to the night we had to flee the farm.

"What the hell is going on there?" Enid questioned, pointing towards the watchtower by the gate. "Is that… is that someone trying to cross?"

"Where's the binoculars?" I questioned, and Enid took them out of her bag, handing them to me. I looked through them, watching as someone did exactly what she said. "It's Spencer." I could see Clary on the platform he climbed off of, trying to call him back. "Clary's trying to get him back."

"I don't think it's working," Enid remarked, as Spencer continued to inch his way across.

I could hear the others yelling to Spencer, their voices faint due to the distance. His line wasn't secure, and when it shifted, he partially dropped. Spencer hung on by his hands, his feet brushing the hands of the walkers. "Glenn, what's happening?" Enid questioned.

"The rope shifted. The walkers can reach his ankles. Oh, _shit!"_

The rope suddenly snapped, and Spencer was falling, swinging back towards the wall. A few walkers were knocked down, and Spencer fell to the ground with them. From the next platform over, a gun was fired, taking down the walkers closest to Spencer. Rick, who joined Clary on the platform, took the rope, trying to pull him up as Spencer started to climb. Tobin joined Rick, giving him a hand. Clary climbed over the wall, balanced on one of the support beams. She began firing on the walkers as well, holding them off of Spencer while he climbed. "Don't fall, Clary," I whispered. "Please, don't fall."

She must've run out of ammo, as she holstered her gun and Spencer was still not up the wall. Bucky and Morgan arrived, helping Rick and Tobin pull Spencer up. Spencer kicked at the walkers, trying to free his ankles from their hold, and continued kicking as he was pulled up. "No!" I cried as he struck Clary, sending her off. "Clary!"

I fell to my knees, closing my eyes as there was a girl's scream of fear. _I survived, only to see it end like this. To lose my family like this? It's not right._ Enid took the binoculars, watching as I was unable to. "He's going over!" Enid said, keeping me updated. "The dude with the arm! He climbed over." More guns fired. "He has her! Glenn, Bucky has her! I think she's okay. Glenn, you hear me?" I opened my eyes, watching as Bucky pulled Clary up onto the support beam with him, wrapping his arm around her as he climbed back over. "Glenn, she's okay."

I looked over at Enid as she sat down beside me, telling me, "Did you see it? Bucky saved her." I put my head in my hands, trying to steady out my breathing. "Glenn? Are you okay?"

"Oh, I thought I lost her," I whispered. "I thought I lost her. Oh my god. Not my little sister. Never her."

* * *

 **Clary**

"Carl!" I yelled as Bucky as I ran through the streets, searching for my boyfriend. "Answer me!"

"Carl!" Bucky echoed. "Carl! Where are you?"

"Clary?" Carl replied from somewhere off to my right. "Bucky? That you?"

"Carl?" I called, waiting for him to reply so I could find him. Bucky was ahead of me, though, taking my hand and pulling me with him as he ran for Carl. We skidded to a stop next to him, Bucky placing a hand on his shoulder as he asked, "You alright?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Carl questioned, looking up at him. "Are you guys alright? I ran into Spencer not too long ago…" I saw Ron behind him then, and raised my gun on him while Bucky pulled Carl behind us. "Clary, what the hell?"

"He stole ammo from the armory," I replied, not taking my eyes off of Ron. "And he's gunnin' for you to get at Rick for killin' Pete."

Ron raised his hands, lying, "Whoa, hey. I don't have any ammo."

"You're lying," Bucky said, raising his gun as well. Ron's eyes widened in fright, obviously terrified that the Winter Soldier was aiming a gun at him.

"Clary! Bucky!" Carl cries, stepping around us. "That's enough! If he says he doesn't have ammo, then he doesn't have ammo." Neither of us lowered our guns, and Carl reached up, forcing our hands down. He took my gun, holstering it, and looking at Bucky, waiting for him to do the same. I glared at Carl, watching Ron out of the corner of my eye. "Bucky, that's enough. You're not going to kill him. He's a kid. You're not going to kill a kid."

At that, Bucky lowered his gun, holstering it. "I don't care how old he is," Bucky said. "Not when he's out to kill a friend."

"Why would I want to kill Carl?" Ron questioned. "Sure, maybe I don't like him or his dad, but why would I want to kill him?"

"Rick hurt you," I snapped, stepping around Carl. If he won't let me use my gun, there are a hell of a lot of other ways to kill. "You want to hurt him back. Take away something he cares about. Real original, Ron. Talk about a cliché."

Carl grabbed my arm, stopping me from advancing any further. I pulled my arm out of his grasp, opening my mouth to tell him off, but he was looking at something over my head. "Clary," he whispered, his eyes still in the sky. "Clary, look."

"Yeah, Clary," Bucky added. "You really should look."

I slowly turned, staring at the green balloons rising in the sky, in the direction that the signal would come from. "Glenn," I managed.

Carl caught me as I fell back into him, draping my arm around his neck as he wrapped an arm around my waist. "He's alive, Clary," Carl murmured in my ear. "Glenn's alive. C'mon. You know him, he'll find a way to get in. Let's go meet him."

I took both Bucky's and Carl's hands, taking them with me as I started towards the gate, but I pulled them to a halt when I heard wood cracking. I looked up at the watchtower, unstable after the truck plowed into it, at the reinforced fence beneath it. "Tobin!" I shouted, seeing him beneath it. I released their hands, drawing my gun, as the tower swayed. "Get the hell outta there! The tower's goin'!"

Tobin booked it, heading away from the tower, as Rick barked for everyone to get back. Bucky grabbed Carl's arm, and then mine, pulling us back. I flinched, as he used a little more strength than needed with his metal arm, and he immediately apologized. "Stay back," Bucky ordered, stepping around us as he drew his gun.

The tower fell, and the wall was broken in. We were doing it live, again.


	6. How It Happens

**Chapter 5: How It Happens**

 **Clary**

"Oh, my god," I whispered, stepping backwards as the walkers stumbled in from outside. "Carl."

"Clary?" Carl asked, taking my arm. "Clary, hey!"

I looked up at him, then asked, "Back at the nursing home, you remember what I told you?"

"You told me to run," Carl answered. "Clary, I'm not leaving you."

I turned my back on the walkers, knowing Bucky had my back, looking up into his eyes, what's always been my favorite feature of his. Bright blue and knowing, seeing right through me before I could see through myself. "Go," I whispered. "Go. I'll find you when it's over. But it's time to fight."

I took off towards Rick, pulling out my gun, Bucky right behind me. We're cut off from him as the front line of the walkers bulged, and we fired at the ones closest to us before turning and running. In the distance, I could see Carl, joined by Father Gabriel and Ron. Michonne grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the front lines, and dragged me and Bucky with her towards Carl, Ron, and Gabriel. "Rick!" Michonne called, decapitating walkers as we ran towards them. Rick helped Deanna along, running for our house. "This way!"

Michonne, Bucky, and I took the lead, Rick, Deanna, and Carl directly behind us, Gabriel and Ron in the rear. We stumbled back as walkers cut us off, but gunshots were fired from the nearby porch, and Jessie shouted, "Come on! I have Judith!"

We took off for her house, and she held the door open, rushing us all inside, and slamming it shut after Michonne, who took the rear to cover us. I stepped over to the window, watching as walkers filled the streets, taking our home away from us. _No, they're taking their world back. They're taking their land back. This isn't our world anymore._ I stepped away from the window, keeping my head down as I turned to face them. "This is how it always happens," I said, looking up at them. "How you lose your home, your friends. The people you consider family. And the walkers, they come. And they take back what's theirs. 'Cause this is their world now. We're just livin' in it."

* * *

 **Glenn**

Enid and I watched, unable to do anything, as the tower went down, walkers flooding inside. I closed my eyes, trying to think, but I was too overcome with worry for my group to think of anything. _C'mon, Glenn, what would Clary say? "Turn off your emotions. Don't get attached. And think."_ "The walkers are flooding in from the east wall," I said, watching it. "That means that the west wall will be the first to clear up. That's how we get in." I started over for my bag, but I stopped when I saw Enid standing still, completely silent. I stepped towards her, telling her, "Just because the tower's down doesn't mean that…" She looked down, and I moved to stand in front of her. "Listen, people are still alive in there."

Enid looked up, out at the wall, and she didn't look at me. "This is how it happens. And it always happens, Glenn."

"We're still here," I said, leaning down to look in her eyes. "Our friends are still in there, people who care about you. My pregnant wife. My sister."

Enid glanced up at me. "You don't have a sister."

"I used to, by blood. But the one I have now, her name is Clary Dixon. And we've gotta get in there to save them. Yeah, sure, the Avengers are there, but when it comes to walkers, whether you're an Avenger or not means shit. You're human." I looked down at Enid, seeing her reluctance to help. "You just want to run away, be afraid, forget about this? Alright, just go. But that's how you lose people. Even after they're gone."

* * *

 **Carol**

It's funny, how I came to confront Morgan about who he had locked in the cell, but then, we were the ones locked in here, walkers being our wardens.

I sat in silence, leaning against a wall, one hand on my head as the image of the wall coming down replayed in my head. I glanced up as Morgan knelt beside me, gesturing to the mark on my forehead from my fall as he said, "Let me take a look at that."

"I'm fine," I replied.

"You don't trust anybody, do you?"

"Some more than others." I chuckled, looking up at him. "But you're dead last."

Morgan snorted in amusement. "Well, at least we're being honest."

He got up to look out the window at the walkers, and I called after him, "I don't trust you, but I never thought you were lying. That's _why_ I don't trust you. Because you told the truth. You can trust a dishonest man to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you have to watch out for. 'Cause you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly stupid." Morgan glanced over his shoulder at me before returning to looking out the window. "How is it out there?"

"They're filling the streets," he answered. I got to my feet, looking downstairs where he must have the prisoner, as I used the wall for support. "Hey, that's probably a concussion. You should sit down before you fall down."

"I'm okay," I said, looking up at him.

"Carol," he said, blocking me from going any further. "Whatever we have to settle, it can wait. It has to."

"Okay," I gave, leaning back against the wall and sliding down it, waiting for the dizziness from standing to pass. Great. We were stuck in there, surrounded by walkers, probably with one of Morgan's buddies known as the Wolves downstairs with Denise, and I was out of the fight. _Well, isn't this just fantastic._

* * *

 **Clary**

"'chonne, take this," I ordered, handing her a pair of scissors before I tied off the cloth around Deanna's leg. We got her inside, Rick carrying her upstairs into a room, where Michonne and I sat, taking care of the wound on her leg as she pressed a cloth to the wound on her side. Bucky sat in a corner, arms crossed over his chest, watching over us.

"How is she?" came Rick's voice as he appeared in the doorway.

"Well, no offense to Clary or Michonne," Deanna said. "But whatever they're doing, it hurts like a son of a bitch."

"We just finished with her leg," Michonne told Rick as I moved to take the cloth from Deanna. I said, "That seems to be the worst of—"

I froze when I saw what was underneath the cloth, looking up at Alexandria's leader. Bucky got up from where he was sitting, asking, "Clary?"

"Deanna…" I said, my voice trailing off.

She looked down at the wound marking her for death, saying, "Well… shit."

"Rick," I said, looking up at Deanna's second in command. "She's been bitten." I rested my hand against her forehead. "And the fever's settin' in."

* * *

 **Carl**

"We're gonna make it," I said softly from my spot on the stairs beside Clary, taking her hand in mine. "We're gonna make it through today. We have to. Everything that's happened, it's gotta take a turn for the better sometime."

"Or the worse," Clary muttered. "I mean, look at us. We're in a house surrounded by dead cannibal freaks, with a woman about to turn into one, a kid that can't do jack shit, and another that's out for blood."

"Clary, he said he doesn't have any ammo," I repeated. "He doesn't. He's not going to try anything."

She looked over at me. "There's a hell of a lot more ways to kill someone other than with a bullet. Trust me, I know. Bucky trained me for a reason."

"We're gonna be okay. We're gonna make it." I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close in case I was wrong, in case we don't all make it through today. In case that day was our last day on earth. I released her when I heard footsteps from the first floor, a door opening and closing. "Stay here, Dixon."

"Carl?" she questioned, looking up at me as she got to her feet.

"Stay here," I repeated. "I heard something. I'm gonna go check it out."

"Isn't the first rule of every horror movie ever, 'don't split up?'"

"It's probably nothing, Dixon."

"Go get 'em, Cowboy," she told me, taking a seat back on the steps. I smiled down at her softly, knowing that she trusted me enough to take care of it. That she had enough faith that I could do it. I walked down, heading towards the garage. When I got there, I opened the door to find Ron leaning against a tool bench, head in his hands. "Ron?" I questioned. "You alright, man?"

"Enid's dead," he answered without looking at me. "We're all dead."

"Look, my dad's gonna figure something out. He always does. And if he doesn't, Clary will. Clary and Bucky, man, you haven't seen them in action, not the way I have."

"That's bullshit," Ron snapped, and when he turned to face me, I saw his red rimmed eyes. He was crying, about our situation, about Enid. "Your dad's just gonna get more people killed. 'Cause that's what he does. That's who he is. Your dad's a killer, and your girlfriend is, too."

"So was yours," I said, and he looked down, away from me. "We need to work this out."

"I'm dead, Carl," he replied. "My mom is dead. My brother is."

"No, they're not," I told him, as he walked away from me, towards the door. "We're gonna make it."

I turned to watch him as he locked the door, putting the keys in his back pocket. When he did, I caught a glimpse of the gun tucked under his waistband, and I instantly knew that everything that Clary and Bucky said about him has been the truth. "Your dad, you're dead, too," he said, turning to face me. "We're all dead."

I shoved him against the door just as he pulled out the gun, trying to wrestle it from his hand. He pushed me against a shelf, and when it tipped, we both fell to the floor. I looked over at him as he grabbed a shovel, getting to my feet and backing away. Ron swung it, I ducked, and it smashed the glass behind me. Outside the door, I heard Clary shouting our names, joined by my dad, Bucky, and Jessie a few seconds later.

Ron swung the shovel in my direction again, and I was forced back by the broken window. I tried to hold it off, but he pushed back against it, choking me. I tried to think, the sound of the walkers' snarls growing louder, and I brought my feet up, kicking Ron away from me. He fell to the ground, and I joined him as the walkers appeared at the door, their hands grabbing for anything. I scrambled to my feet, pushing the shelf against the door in an attempt to hold them off. Ron laid on his back, staring up at them. "Ron, help me!" I barked, as the walkers pushed the shelf away. "Ron! C'mon!"

"Get away from the door!" Bucky shouted, and I glanced over my shoulder as he smashed his fist through it, nearly tearing it off the hinges and taking out the handle. I turned back to the walkers, jumping back as one nearly grabbed me.

"Carl! Get your ass to the door, now!" I heard Clary's shout, and I turned to find her in the garage, Ron out, and the door opened. I abandoned the shelf, picking up my hat on my way out the door. Clary followed a second later, and Ron, Jessie, and I slammed the door the second she was out. It wouldn't close, and I looked down to find the handle broken off, no way of closing it, even if the walkers weren't pushing back against the door. "Dammit, Buck!" Clary said from beside me as she joined us, trying to close it. "I told you to be careful of the handle!"

"We didn't have time!" Bucky replied, and I glanced over to see him moving a couch to hold against the door with my dad and Father Gabriel's help. "We need more, and we need to be quiet."

"I'll see what I can find," Michonne told him as Clary, Jessie, and I joined him in holding off the walkers. Father Gabriel joined her in the search, and my dad asked, "Hey, what happened in there?"

"We were looking for tools and knocked over a shelf," I lied.

"We heard the yelling," Clary said, and while I knew she didn't believe me, she'll cover for me.

I looked over at her as I said, "Yeah. Ron saw them break through the gates. That's what happened."

"Carl," Ron said, leaning towards us. "There's nightstands in my mom's room. We can brace the couch with them."

"Hey," Jessie said, trying to get her son's attention. "It sounded like you were fighting."

"Yeah, but we were fighting them," Ron lied, starting towards his mother's room.

"Carl?" Clary asked as I went to follow him.

"It's okay," I told her. I followed Ron into Jessie's room, closing the door behind us. He looked out the window, starting, "Listen, I, uh—"

I raised my gun, cutting him off. "Hand me the gun, grip first."

Ron turned to look at me. "Carl, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know. Now give me the gun." Ron handed over the gun, and I took it, tucking it in my jeans. "Look, man, I get it. My dad killed your dad. But you need to know something. Your dad was an asshole."

Ron looked at me, his eyebrows creased, obviously surprised that I was speaking of his father that way. I continued, "You see, I don't take too kindly to people like him. Men that hit their children. You asked me once why Clary was the way she is. You of all people should know. She spent fourteen years being beaten by her father. Men like your father, I hate every one of them. What your father did to you, to your mom, your brother... I don't understand why you're still sticking up for him."

"The same reason you're sticking up for Rick," Ron replied. "He's my dad."

"Ron, I'm giving you a warning. And it's not only to save my ass, but to save yours. Clary, well, she's pretty damn protective over us. All of us. You saw what she did to Nicholas after what happened with Noah and them. So you try to hurt me, or anyone else in my group, well, you're gonna have to run for your life. Even without being trained by _the Winter Soldier_ , she's deadly as hell. So don't underestimate her. It'll be the last thing you ever do."

I turned and picked up one of the nightstands, carrying it out. Ron followed me a moment later, and with Jessie, Clary, and my dad, we stabilized the couch against the door. "Carl, you come with me," Clary ordered, stepping away from the door.

"Gladly," I replied, following her. Behind me, Ron muttered, "Boy, she's got you whipped."

Clary and I turned to look at them, and I held out an arm to stop Clary when she started forward. "No, I got it," I said.

"Well, be my guest," Clary said with a wave of her hand. I lowered my arm, starting towards Ron, but I was pulled back by my dad, who barked, "Not this shit! Not now, Carl!"

I pulled my arm free of Rick's as Jessie pushed Ron back, and Clary pointed at me, Bucky, then gestured behind her to Jessie's room. Bucky and I followed her in, and she closed the door behind me. "What the hell happened in there?" she questioned.

"I've got it covered, Dixon," I told her.

"That's great. But it don't answer my question. Do I need to shoot someone?"

"No," I told her. "He doesn't have a gun, not anymore. I took it. You guys were right. I should've listened to you. He had ammo, had the gun. And he's out for our blood."

"I don't want to say I told you, Carl, but dammit, I told you. There are two things that I'm exceptionally good at that involves people. Readin' 'em, and killin' 'em."

From the living room, Jessie shouted, "Rick!"

"Shit," Bucky breathed, turning towards the door. "What're we facing now?"

We ran out to find that the walkers broke through the board that had closed the window broken from my dad's fight with Pete, and he joined us as we attempted to hold them off. Beside me, Gabriel said, "There's too many of them."

"Everyone, get upstairs, now!" Michonne barked, and I looked over to see that they're coming in through the door. Michonne and Clary were the last two up the steps, the latter looking at the couch as they passed it. "The couch!" Clary cried, getting an idea. "We'll block the stairs!"

Bucky gave Michonne and Clary a hand moving it, taking a step back to look down at the walkers it was holding off. We were completely cornered, but it's in a corner where Clary thinks best. _She's got this._ "Guts," Clary said, looking down at the walkers. She pulled out her switchblade, starting towards the closest one. "I got this one. Michonne, get the one behind it. We're gonna need at least two."

* * *

 **Clary**

Rick and I dragged the second walker upstairs, and I ordered Carl, "Stay here. You get us if any more start squeezin' through."

We dropped the walker beside the first, where Michonne had already gotten ready to tear it open. I ordered Gabriel, "We're gonna need bedsheets, enough for everyone."

"Bedsheets for what?" Jessie questioned.

I looked up at Rick. "You wanna tell her? I get the feelin' we're on the same page."

"We all go to the armory," Rick explained.

"How?"

"We gut 'em," I answered, reaching around Rick to take his knife.

In depth, Rick explained, "We're gonna cover ourselves with the insides. It'll mask our smell. Make 'em think we're like them."

"Will it work?" Jessie questioned.

Rick looked over at me. "We've done it before. We stay calm, we don't draw attention. We can move right through them."

At that point, Gabriel returned with nine bedsheets, enough for all of us. Someone will have to carry Judith, and Deanna won't make it. Michonne said, "They're in the house, they're making noise. More are coming."

Michonne plunged her sword into one walker, while I worked on opening up the other. Bucky knelt beside her, getting ready to dig his hands into the walker, then paused, reaching up to tie his hair back. He grinned, looking over at me, then without a word, tied mine back to match his. "Thanks, Buck," I said.

"That's what I'm here for," he replied as Rick joined me. I looked up as Gabriel wrinkled his nose, watching us. I glanced around at Jessie, Ron, and Gabriel, then said, "I'd apologize if you're squeamish, but hell, shit's about to get real." I noticed how reluctant they were to accept the plan. "If anyone stays here, they're gonna die."

"What about Deanna?" Gabriel inquired.

"She won't make it," Bucky answered. "She's bit. She might as well be dead already. And I know it sounds cold as hell, and that's a lot coming from a guy like me, but she has to be left behind."

* * *

 **Michonne**

As I looked down at the sleeping Deanna, I found myself wondering why I volunteered to be the one to tell her we were leaving her behind. She gasped as I knelt next to her, waking her up. "What's going on out there?" Deanna questioned.

"They're getting in," I answered. "The rest of us, we're gonna have to go. We have no other choice. If you want me to, I'll—"

"No," Deanna objected, cutting me off. "I'm not ready. Not yet. I will be. Soon. And when I am… I'll do it myself." She held up her gun. "It's my life. Start to finish. _Dolor hic tibi proderit olim._ "

"What does it mean?" I questioned, remembering that it was written on the plans she gave Rick and I for the expansion.

"'Someday this pain will be useful to you,'" she answered, resting her hand on my cheek the same way Andrea did, in the moments before her death. I took her hand, closing my eyes as I tried not to cry, remembering my friend. "Go, Michonne. They need you."

I got to my feet, looking down at her. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For believing."

"I still believe. I cocked it all up, but I figured it out." She reached up, and I took her hand, gently squeezing it. "What do you want? Now you figure it out."

"I will," I told her, knowing that once this was all over, I would.

"Good. Give 'em hell, 'chonne."

* * *

 **Clary**

It was a while since I was last covered in guts, in Atlanta, and I had to admit, the smell wasn't as bad as I remembered it being. I suppose I had gotten used to it over time. Before everything, you never smelled it. In the beginning, it was all at once, the stench of death. And then, after nearly two years, we grew accustomed to it. So much so that I couldn't remember what it was like before the smell of death was everywhere you went, no matter how far you tried to run.

I covered Carl's back, and he returned the favor a few moments later. "I still can't believe you did this in the early days," he said. "And then walked through _Atlanta_ without 'em even noticing you. It's insane."

"Dude, crazy works," I replied, glancing at him over my shoulder as I covered Bucky's back. "You're right. We're gonna all make it, 'cause this is gonna work."

"Mom?" I heard Sam ask, and I turned to find him standing in the doorway, finally emerging from his room, looking horrified at the gutted walkers before him.

Jessie got to her feet, stepping over to her son before kneeling to look him in the eyes. She told him, "You need to listen to me, okay? We aren't safe here anymore. Okay, we need to do this so that we can be safe out there. We need to look like the monsters."

"No, please, no," Sam begged, his voice shaking with fright.

"Yes, honey, we have to go, okay?" Jessie replied. "We have to, Sam. Honey, just pretend you're brave. Okay? Just make it all pretend. Okay, none of this is real and you're somebody who isn't afraid. Okay?"

Sam nodded slightly, while I said, "This is real. You can't pretend it's all a bad dream. We have to live in this world, whether we like it or not, and we have to accept it for what it is. There ain't nobody who isn't afraid no more. You're lyin' if you say you ain't. And if you aren't, then you're a damn fool. The vast ocean of shit that we're livin' in is as real as it'll ever be. Now, Sam Anderson, you get your ass over here and you get yourself covered in guts, 'cause if you don't, then you're gonna die. And if you're too damn afraid to go, you're gonna get left behind. You won't be outside the walls when they come, oh, no, you'll be in here, too scared to move, to run. You'll scream when they come, but no one will come. 'Cause we gotta live. So the things you call monsters will come, and they'll tear you apart, they'll eat you up, all while you're still alive. While you can still _feel_ it. You're gonna die screamin', but you won't be heard. And then afterwards, no one'll know. Well, we'll have an idea, but you'll be too far gone for us to know if it's you. You'll be just another _monster_ we gotta put down."

"Clary," Jessie snapped, getting to her feet to face me. "Cut it out!"

"You leave her alone," Bucky snapped, stepping forward to face her. Jessie shrunk back, a pissed off Winter Soldier towering over her. "She's right. You can't pretend anymore. The time for kid shit is over. It's been over since the beginning, but you've been living the sheltered life. You've never had to fight. Grow the fuck up and see the world for how it is. You're either dead, or you gotta fight to live. You don't get to be a kid anymore."

"You guys have got to stop," Carl said. "I think you scared them enough. Just stop."

"Hell no," I snapped. "We're in a shit sandwich without the bread. Ain't got time to stop, to rest. Shit's how it is, man. We do what we need to do, and then we get to live." I looked over at Rick. "Ain't that right, Officer?"

Rick ignored me, holding out a hand towards Sam. "C'mon, let's get you fixed up."

Sam stepped towards him, staying as far away from Bucky and I as he could. Jessie and Rick helped him cover himself in guts. I watched the walkers downstairs from the landing, looking up as Rick and Michonne appeared. "We need to go," Rick said. "Really soon."

"We're ready," Jessie told him, her hands on Sam's shoulders. "Ron?"

"Yeah," her oldest son replied, looking down at the walkers as I climbed back up with them.

"I'll get Judith," Rick said, starting off.

"Rick," Gabriel said, taking his arm before he can leave. "I'm not gonna give up out there. I will not turn back, no matter what happens."

"Yeah, I know," Rick said, trusting him a bit more and more with each day. I, on the other hand, refused to. While Rick stepped off to go get his daughter, I stepped up to face Gabriel.

"Promise me," I said, looking up at him. "You swear to me that you won't turn back."

"I swear," he said.

"No matter what happens, you keep fightin' through 'em, Gabriel. That's how we all live. If you see one of your friends go down, you still gotta fight, 'cause that's how you stay alive. That's how you honor the fallen."

"I promise you, Clary," Gabriel said. "I won't give up when we go out there. Not like I have before. I understand it now. I may be scared, but I'm not going to turn back. I've learned that you can't."

"Good," I said. "'Cause I'll shoot you if you do."

I looked over as Rick returned with Judy, and Carl lifted up his sheet to carry her under it in the baby harness they rigged up earlier. "Y'all ready?" I asked, and receive nods. "Alright. Let's kick it in the ass."

I kept my eyes down as we headed downstairs, removing the couch. We linked hands as we stepped forward, out onto the porch. I tightened my grip on Bucky's hand, while he refused to tighten his grip on mine, still afraid of his own strength, even after all this time. I lifted my gaze to look around at the walkers that stumbled past, ignoring us.

 _It worked._


	7. No Way Out

**Chapter 6: No Way Out**

 **Abraham**

"Daryl," Sasha said to our driver, looking at something ahead of us in the road.

"Yeah, I see," Daryl replied.

I looked ahead to see a group of guys on motorcycles, stopped in the middle of the road, almost like they were waiting for us. "What in the holy shit?" I questioned.

Daryl slowed to a stop in front of them, the brakes of the fuel truck squealing as he did so. We didn't move, staring down at them, waiting for them to make the first move. The guy in front, obviously the one in charge of the group, climbed off his bike, calling up to us, "Why don't you come on out, join us in the road?" It wasn't a request, it was an order. Still, we hesitated, because we didn't know who the hell these people were or what they wanted. "You know, if you wanna resist, try something, I mean, it's a choice, I guess. But we will end your asses, split you right in two. Straight through to the sinuses. So, come on!"

As Daryl turned the engine off, we climbed out, Daryl on one side, Sasha and I on the other. I took a few steps forward, Sasha lingering behind me. "Alright," the leader said. "It's going well right out of the gate. Now, step two. Hand over your weapons."

"Why should we?" Daryl questioned.

"Well, they're not yours."

"What?" I said, glaring at him as I stood tall in the military uniform I found.

"You see," the leader started. "Your weapons, your truck, the fuel in your truck, if you got mints in your glove compartment, if you got porn underneath the seats, change in the seats, hell, the seats themselves, the floor mats, your maps, the little stash of emergency napkins you got there in the console, none of those things are yours anymore."

"Whose are they?" Sasha demanded.

"Your property," the leader said, stepping towards us, "now belongs to Negan."

We stood in silence, and I realized that these guys belonged to another group, one probably just as large as Alexandria. And this guy, the one that I thought was the leader, wasn't in charge of the entire group. He was just in charge of this group of dicks that thought they could take our shit. He continued, "And if you can get your hands on a tanker, you're people our person wants to know." He stepped forward, heading towards Daryl first. "So, let's get those sidearms, shall we? Right now."

Daryl hesitated, and for a moment, I thought he was going to do something incredibly stupid and heroic, and he did, too, but he must have thought of Clary back home, how he'll only get himself killed if he tried anything. So he handed over his handgun, the only weapon he had aside from his knife. After those pricks he ran into took not only his motorcycle, but his crossbow as well.

The leader of Negan's people took his gun, thanked him, and moved on to Sasha. She gave him her handgun, looking defeated. As he approached me, I didn't look him in the eye, pretending that he wasn't even there. I glanced down at him as he said, "If you have to eat shit, best not to nibble. Bite, chew, swallow, repeat. It goes quicker."

I gave him my gun, knowing that he'd get it eventually. As he turned and walked away, Sasha, questioned, "Who are you people?"

"I get the curiosity," he said, glancing over his shoulder to look at her. "But we have questions ourselves. And we'll be the ones asking them while we drive you back to wherever it is you folks call home. Take a gander at where you hang your hats. First, though, your shit. What have you got for us?"

"Yeah, you just took it," Daryl snapped.

"Come on. I mean, can we not, okay? There's more. There's _always_ more." He sighed when we didn't answer, turning to address one of his men as he climbed back on his bike. "T, take my man to the back of the truck, start inside the back bumper, work your way to the front." I clenched my fists as the man known as T shoved Daryl back, pushing him towards the back of the truck. I looked over at Sasha as she clenched her jaw, wondering if she was thinking of taking these fuckers on like I was. "Bite, chew, swallow, repeat."

"Who's Negan?" I questioned, looking back at his men.

"Ding, dong, hell's bells," the leader sings, aiming one of our guns at me. "You see, usually we introduce ourselves by just popping one of you right off the bat. But you seem like reasonable people. I mean, you're sportin' dress blues, for Christ's sake. And, like I said, we're gonna drive you back to where you were. I mean, do you know how awkward it is carpooling with someone whose friend or friends you've just killed?" He groaned. "Oof. But I told you not to ask any questions. And then what does this ginger do? So that's that. I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me."

The hammer clicked as he cocked it, and Sasha cried, "Wait!" She took a breath. "Wait. You don't have to do this."

As the leader of Negan's posse drew a second gun, aiming it at her, I told her, "Shut up."

"I am talking to the man," Sasha hissed.

"No, you're not," the leader said. After a moment, he sighed, lowering his guns. "Nah, I'm not gonna kill you. Wait, wait. On second thought, maybe I will."

Before he could even raise his guns, there was an explosion, knocking Sasha and I on our backs. I blinked in confusion before I realized, _the rocket launcher._ It was the rocket launcher I found that just saved our asses. Sasha and I slowly sat up, trying to recover from the shock of the explosion. From the other side of the truck, I could hear laughing, and it took me a long time to realize that the laughter was coming from Daryl. I've seen him grin at something that his sister had said, but never heard him laugh. "Damn, Abe," he said, looking over at us as we stumbled over to him. "This thing really works."

We stepped around to his side of the truck, looking at the body of the man that took Daryl to the back of the truck. "Son of a bitch was tougher than he looked," Daryl said, noticing that we were looking at the body.

"Did he cut you?" Sasha inquired, seeing the blood on our savior's shoulder.

"A little," Daryl replied. "What a bunch of assholes."

Sasha chuckled, holding a rag against his shoulder to slow the bleeding. She clapped his other shoulder, saying, "Let's get you fixed up at home."

"Yes, ma'am," Daryl replied as she pulled the rag away, opening the door to the truck.

"Wait until Clary hears about this one," Sasha laughed, which caused Daryl to groan.

"Great," he sighed. "Last thing I need from her is a momma cat smackdown. As if she's not gettin' one for the shit she pulled."

Sasha laughed, while I grinned. "Talk about an upgrade, Dixon," I said, looking at the rocket launcher still in his hands.

Daryl grinned, looking down at it, then nodded towards the truck. "C'mon, let's go."

He climbed in, and I followed Sasha around the front, looking down at the bodies of the men that stopped us. To the bodies of the assholes, I said, "Nibble on that."

* * *

 **Clary**

Rick stayed in the lead as we made our way through the walkers, Carl directly behind him, Michonne, Bucky, and I in the rear, with Father Gabriel and the Andersons scattered between Carl and Bucky. We slowly made our way down the streets, heading towards the armory, while I tried to take a count of all the walkers. However, they were too spread out for me to get a good guess on their number. "Rick," I hissed, keeping my voice quiet as I tried not to draw attention to us. " _Rick."_

He glanced back at me, and I gestured with my head to a space free of walkers near the lake. Rick changed directions, making his way towards it. We broke apart, standing in a circle while Michonne and Carl took watch. "We've gotta make a new plan," I whispered. "Flares from a few guns won't be enough. They're too spread out, and I can't count how many there are."

"So the armory's out," Rick agreed. "I've got an idea."

"Let's hear it."

"Spencer said about going across and gettin' a car to lead 'em away. It made me think. We need our vehicles back at the quarry. All of us drive. We'll need to round 'em up. We leave, we come back."

"Okay," Jessie said, the first to agree. She looked towards Carl, at Judy underneath his cloak of insides. "But Judith, to the quarry and back, I…"

"Jessie's right," I agreed. "Judy, she can't make that kind of trip. Someone's gonna have to stay behind."

We were all quiet for a moment before Gabriel volunteered, "I'll take her. Keep her safe in my church until you all lead the walkers away."

Michonne turned away from her watchpost to look at the father. "Can you do this?"

"I'm supposed to," he replied, looking at her. "I have to." He turned to Rick. "I will."

"All right," Rick agreed. Judith whimpered as she was passed from Carl to Gabriel, who shushed her as he took her under his sheet. Before Gabriel could leave, Jessie told him, "Take Sam."

"No," Sam objected, looking up at his mother.

"Yes, Sam, it'll be safer."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Sam, goddammit!" I snapped, facing him. "You'll just slow us down! Go with Gabriel! This time, I have a chance to do the right thing. I've got to get you safe, 'cause I can't watch another Sam get killed by them. So, dammit, _just go_."

"I'm not leaving," he repeated, looking up at his mother. "I can keep going."

"Sam," Jessie started.

"I can keep going," Sam reiterated. "Please." His mother didn't say anything. "Please. Let's just go."

Jessie glanced up at Rick before she agreed. "Gabriel," I started, but he cut me off, looking up at Rick.

"I'm going to keep her safe."

"Thank you," Rick whispered. Gabriel nodded once before turning to head in the direction we came. "Wait," Bucky said.

Gabriel paused, turning back. "Yes?"

"Take Clary."

"Bucky!" I objected.

"You hurt your ankle when you fell," Bucky whispered. "You can't walk that far."

"You need me," I argued. "I'm a fighter. And it's my job."

"Gabriel, go," Bucky ordered, then looked down at me. "Yeah, we need you. But if we get out there and you can't walk, don't think I'm carrying your ass."

I smirked at that, knowing he would if I needed him to. "He's gonna make it," Jessie assured Rick, watching Gabriel head in the direction of his church. "I know it."

"Let's do this," I said, taking Carl's hand in one of mine, and Ron's in the other. Rick took Sam's hand, who took Jessie's, who then took Carl's other hand. Ron kept his eyes down as he took Michonne's hand, Bucky bringing up the rear, and we started off again into the herd of dead.

* * *

 **Eugene**

"We have to try."

"We cannot go out there, Tara. There are too many of them."

"Rosita, he's gonna kill her."

"We won't get to her!"

"Denise needs us!"

"We'll die. That is what will happen. We have two guns, and the streets are filled with those things. Even with Clint and all his arrows, we still won't make it. That man with the W, he needs her. Okay? She's a doctor, and he's sick. And I think we've seen that he knows how to survive. But we need to make sure that Carol and Morgan are okay, and then we make a plan. We cannot _just go."_

"Okay," Tara said, sniffling. I sat back on my knees after watching the two women argue, after Rosita's speech about what we needed to do. Below me, Carol groaned, signalling that she was awake after her fight with Morgan, which allowed the W Man to escape with Denise as his hostage.

"Easy," I told her, helping her to her feet. Morgan was still unconscious after the W Man hit him with his own bo staff.

"Rosita," Carol said, looking across the room at the younger woman as Stark handed her the knife she dropped. "I'm gonna need your gun. Gonna do a sweep of the brownstone. I want to see what other surprises are in here."

"Hey, he's waking up," I said, seeing Morgan start to move. Rosita and I knelt by him, helping him sit up. Morgan looked around, then asked, "Where is he? Where's Denise?"

"He took her, didn't he?" Carol questioned. Clint nodded slowly, turning away from the window he watched out of, and Carol sighed, taking Rosita's gun as she headed upstairs. I helped Morgan up before heading to the window, joining Clint, looking out into the streets. "It seems like there's more," I muttered. "They just keep comin'."

* * *

 **Glenn**

I held the door to the new church open for Enid, closing it as soon as she was through. "Maybe when they searched this place, they missed something," I suggested, starting up the aisle. "Depends if it was Aiden or Heath's group who went through it."

"You think there's anything left?" Enid inquired, checking under seat cushions for anything.

"There's nothing left that isn't hidden," I replied, glancing over my shoulder at her. "Check the Bibles, too. Could've hollowed out the pages."

"Are you serious?"

"We have two bullets. People who holed up here, they're not coming back. But people hide guns, ammo. Maybe something to start a fire." I glanced out the window. "It's getting dark out soon. Maybe we can distract them. We need sheets, ropes, towels, anything Maggie and Nat can use to climb down the other side." She ignored me, completely silent. "Enid!"

"When I wanted to run," she started. "You said, 'that's how you lose people, even after they're gone.' What the hell does that mean?"

"People you love, they made you who you are," I answered. "They're still part of you. If you stop being you, that last bit of them that's still around inside, who you are… it's gone."

Enid turned now, facing me. "Who are those people to you?"

"My parents," I answered, thinking of everyone that I loved that I've lost as I started towards her. "A man named Dale. Maggie's father, Hershel. A woman named Andrea. A man named Tyreese. A hero named Sam." I looked down, standing directly in front of her now. "Who are they to you?"

Enid looked down, whispering, "My parents."

I leaned down, softly telling her, "Then they're still here, 'cause you're still here."

I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. "Glenn?" she asked. "Glenn, what the hell? Let go of me."

I released her, but still kept a hand on her shoulder. "Enid, listen," I told her. "I want you to stay put."

"What?" Enid questioned, following me as I headed towards the alter.

"I wanted you to come back."

"I can handle myself. You said you wanted help."

I stopped walking, turning to face her. "No, I didn't want you to give up on this place, on these people, to be afraid."

"You were right. So I'm here now. And I'm going out there and I'm helping you. We have to get Maggie and Natasha off that platform. Maggie's hurt. Natasha might be, too. She needs help getting over the wall. I can climb up the gate, you can distract them. We do it together." When I said nothing, she chuckled. "I'm just going to follow you anyway." At that, I chuckled softly, and Enid's eyebrows creased in confusion. "Glenn? What is it?"

"Back in that alley, when I first saw you," I told her. "I mistook you for Clary. But now, I see that you two aren't so different."

Enid scoffed. "We're nothing alike."

"Yeah. you are," I argued. "You're survivors, and that comes first. Before anything else. You've lived through it all, and you fight to tell the tale."

Enid scoffed again. "Whatever. You keep looking for the Bible Glock, and I'll make Maggie and Natasha something to climb down."

"Okay," I said, realizing that she wasn't going to stay behind while I went to save the wife and the widow. "Let's hurry."

We split off, Enid gathering any cloth or rope while I searched anything and everything for the Bible Glock, as she called it. "Hey," I heard Enid call, and I turned to find her holding up a box with a gun inside. "You were right." She handed me the gun, taking her collection of cloths as she headed for the door. "Let's go save them."

"Can't you just stay here?" I called after her.

"Nope," she answered. "Now let's get it done."

* * *

 **Clary**

We still had a ways to go before we reached the gate when the sun disappeared below the horizon, and as I recounted the amount of walkers, I found myself wondering if I just witnessed my last sunset. Carl squeezed my hand tighter for a second, just enough to get my attention. "C'mon," he whispered. "We'll be there soon."

As I looked up in his eyes, I wondered how we've gotten this far. How we got here. How I went from a kid that trusted no one except her brothers to the survivor I am now, and how he went from an innocent kid, scared of the dead, to one that walked among them, unfazed. How we're still alive after everything that should've killed us. I wondered how the good people that deserved to live are dead, and the bad ones, the evil ones are, too, but the people that don't deserve to live are still alive. The people around me that's been with me since Georgia, the ones I considered family, they deserve to live, but I don't. Not after all the people I've killed, the people I've gotten killed. Not after the things I've done.

"Clary," Carl whispered. "Hey, you with me?" I nodded once. "Alright. C'mon."

We slowed to a stop when Sam let go of Rick's hand, and then Jessie's, backing away from them. "Sam?" Jessie asks, bending down slightly so they're eye level. "Sam? Sam, c'mon. Come on. Sweetheart? Sam?"

"You can do it," Rick told him, keeping his voice low. "You can do it."

Sam shook his head, and Jessie added, "Yes, you can. Come on, Sam. Sam."

"Sam," I hissed. "Sam, we ain't got time for this. We gotta go. C'mon."

"Sam," Ron whispered from beside me. "Sam, you can do this. Just look at Mom."

"Sam, come on," Jessie said. "Sam, honey, I need you to come with me."

He let out a sob, and I glances around as the walkers stumbled towards us, drawn by the noise. "Sam," I hissed, while the others tried to get him to continue on. "Sam, shut up. C'mon, man. Be quiet. We gotta keep goin'. It's the only way we all can live."

Just as I said that, walkers grabbed him, and he let out an ear-piercing scream as they tore into him, screaming for Jessie. His mother let out a sob, then a scream as she watched her youngest son be torn apart in front of her. "Oh, Sam," I whispered, and Ron's nails dug into my hand as he tightened his hold, as if it was the only thing keeping him up. "Sam, no, oh, no."

"Jessie," Carl tried. "Jessie, c'mon. Come with us. You have to go. C'mon."

She didn't scream as the walkers grab her, but when Carl didn't pull away, didn't step back towards me, I knew that something was horribly wrong. I looked around him as he tried to pull his hand free of Jessie's, but she had a deadlocked grip on his, her screaming drawing more as the walkers feasted on her. "Rick!" I cried, releasing my grip on Ron's hand as I moved to help Carl. "Rick!"

"Dad!" Carl cried, his desperation showing in his voice.

"Rick, dammit!" Bucky shouted, not caring about the loudness of it. It couldn't be as loud as Sam's screams. "Get your shit together!"

At that, Rick moved, using the hatchet he carried to chop Jessie's arm off, freeing Carl. Unbalanced, we both fell back, and I scrambled to my feet the second I hit the ground. I watched over Carl's shoulder for the walkers coming from that direction, trusting that he was watching my back. I turned as the hammer of a gun clicks to find Ron aiming it between Carl and I, at Rick.

"You."

Before Ron could fire, Michonne stepped in, taking the matters into her own hands. Ron's aim shifted to the side as she stabbed him through the back, still firing once, but it missed Rick. Ron's body dropped to the ground as Michonne stepped away, nodding once to Rick. She's got his back, and I turned to look at him, gesturing towards him with my hand. _You good?_ He nodded once, and I caught a glimpse of Carl's face as he turned to look at his father. My heart stopped when I saw the damage, the injury. The bloodied eye socket. He asked, "Dad?"

He dropped to the ground, and Rick rushed to his son, as I stared in horror. Ron managed to get the shot in, managed to get his revenge. "Carl," I sobbed, then turn to look at Ron, who struggled to breathe on the ground. "You son of a bitch!"

I drew my gun, firing three shots. One is in Ron's stomach, the other two in each of his knees. No, I wasn't going to kill him. I was just going to put him through so much pain he'll be begging for the walkers. In the back of my mind, I heard the walkers getting closer, Rick and Michonne begging me to get my shit together and _fuckin' move_ , but I kept firing on Ron, hitting in the right places not to kill him, but it'll hurt like hell, moving closer to him as I did so. Bucky grabbed my arm, pulling me back as the walkers descended on Ron. I followed directly behind Rick, taking any walker down that tried to get the jump on us from behind.

Michonne and Bucky pushed their way through the crowd, and I tried not to look at Carl hanging limp in Rick's arms, just like he did two years before.

* * *

 **Eugene**

I watched Tara from my spot on the ground, as she watched out the window. She turned, starting towards us as she said, "It's thinning out front."

"We need to get out there," Carol said, stepping through the doorway. Clint was right behind her, bow in hand. He added, "Rick's making a stand."

"How's that?" I inquired.

"He's out there fighting them with Michonne, Clary, some others. It's time. Up the alley. I'm going. Clint's gonna get up high, cover 'em from above." Carol rested a hand on Tara's shoulder, making sure she had her attention. "Denise is safe."

"Did you see her?" Tara asked.

"Yeah, she made it to the infirmary. I'm gonna go help Rick."

"I'm going, too," Morgan said, getting to his feet, and Stark nodded his agreement.

"I'm with you," Tara volunteered while Rosita said, "All right, me, too."

"Right behind you," I added, getting to my feet to follow them.

Rosita turned to look at me. "Eugene, you don't have to."

"That's incorrect. I do," I told her. I was scared as all hell, but dammit, it was my turn to step up. I might've saved Tara back at that warehouse, but that didn't make me truly part of this group. So I've gotta get out there and help them. "No one gets to clock out today. And, hell, this is a story people are gonna tell."

* * *

 **Clary**

Yet again, we had to turn around, this time ducking through alleys and taking all the shortcuts we could to get to the infirmary. As we reached the porch, Rick took the lead, Michonne, Bucky, and I covering him from behind as the door was opened for him. I slammed the door behind us while Denise questioned, "This is a gunshot?"

"Handgun, close range," Michonne answered.

"Please save him," Rick begged, laying his son on the gurney Aaron wheeled over. "Please."

I stumbled back, frozen as the previous events flashed before my eyes, over and over again. I was dimly aware of Steve and Heath beside me, not moving as Steve took the sheet off of me, then dropped it as I fell back, both of them moving to catch me. "Clary?" Steve questioned, as Heath wrapped an arm around my waist to support me. "Hey, Clary!"

Denise glanced up for a second, and I locked eyes with her. "Save him," I managed. "He's all I have."

"Clary?" Heath tried. "Clary, look at me! Are you hurt?"

I slowly shook my head, coming back down to earth a bit more as Heath and Steve forced me to speak, asking random, rapid fire questions. Everything from _Harry Potter_ trivia to the twenty-sixth president. I turned as the door opened, thinking someone else was being rushed in, but I found Rick, hatchet in hand, stepping out the open door. "Rick!" Michonne cried, looking as though she wanted to go after him, but she was occupied with Carl. "What are you doing? Rick!"

I froze, torn between going after Rick and staying behind with Carl. _Oh, god, what the hell do I do? Think, Clary, think! What would Carl want you to do?_ I could almost hear his voice as I thought, _He'd tell me that he'll be fine, to go after his dad._ "'chonne," I said, starting forward, ignoring Steve's protests. "I'm gonna have to borrow your sword."

"Take it!" she barked, glancing up at me as I stepped over to them. "I'll find you later, trade you back!"

I squeezed Carl's hand, then took Michonne's katana, turning towards Heath and Aaron, who stood by the window, watching. "He's taking them all on," Aaron said. "We have to go get him."

"What?" Spencer inquired.

"We have to," Heath repeated, glancing over at me as I approached.

"You'll do shit," I replied. "Stay here, don't follow me, and Aaron, open the goddamn door. And that's a fuckin' order."

"You need our help!" Heath cried. "You can't do it yourself!"

"Watch me," I replied.

"Clary!" Bucky barked, taking my arm. "Slow down! You're not thinking."

"I don't got time to think," I replied. "Just stay here."

"No!" Bucky cried. "Not without you!"

Steve froze at that, then breathed, "Let her go, Buck."

Bucky didn't release my arm at first, then looked up at Steve, letting me go. "I'm coming with you," Bucky told me. "You can't do it all on your own."

"Just don't slow me down," I told him. Aaron pulled open the door, and we rushed out, taking down any walker within a three foot radius. We pushed forward through the crowd, trying to catch up with Rick. I glanced behind me to see Steve, Aaron, and Heath directly behind me, Spencer a few feet behind them. "The hell are you doin' here?" I barked.

"Givin' you a hand!" Heath called back. "This is our town! Ain't nobody takin' it, dead or alive!"

"Clary!" I heard Michonne shout, and I spun towards her, taking down a walker beside her. I returned her katana, relying now on the switchblade that belonged to Merle. We formed a circle, our backs to each other as we faced the walkers, taking them down as they approached. "Knock 'em down!" I barked. "Drive 'em down! We got this!"

A handful of others, Olivia and Eric included, joined the front line, while Rick barked out encouragement to them. From a rooftop, Clint picked off walkers, firing arrow after arrow. "Heath said it best!" I barked, sending a bit of a grin his way as we fight. "This is _our_ town! Let's take it back!"

"Clary!" Clint shouted. "It's Nat and Maggie!"

I turned in the direction of their watchpost, where they were trapped when the wall came down. It was starting to shake as more and more walkers crowded around it. More and more people joined our front lines, and I caught a glimpse of Father Gabriel, who was finally getting his shit together, and Eugene, stepping up yet again, helping to clear the town. "Keep going!" I ordered the others. "Maggie and Nat need help!"

I took off, shoving walkers away from me and taking down the ones I could as I headed for the watch tower. "Hey!" I yelled, drawing the walkers. "Over here!"

Apparently, someone else had the same idea, because they yelled the same thing as they ran, firing at walkers to draw more of them. "C'mon, you dead sonsabitches!" I yelled, and the fighter turned at the sound of my voice. "C'mon, Short Round! Time for the _Shanghai Knights'_ comeback!"

He joined me, and we faced off against the walkers, backing up as every one of them in the area stumbled towards us. "Glenn," I whispered when my back hit the wall. "What've you done?" I shoved a walker back, stabbing a second in the head. "I was ready to die!" I shoved one away from him, then ducked as he shot one over my head. "But not with you!"

The walkers pushed back against us, pushing us together and against the wall. Maggie screamed, trying to draw them away from us, but they were set on us. Natasha fired her gun, but even the sound didn't draw them. Glenn grabbed me, pulling me against him, and we ducked as there was machine gun fire, taking down the walkers. We looked at each other in surprise, both of us having thought that was the end. I looked up as Abraham yelled, "Can you get the gate? We'd appreciate it, pal!"

"I don't think I've ever been this glad to see that damn ginger," I breathed, knowing that if he was there, Sasha beside him, then so was Daryl. Glenn covered me as I ran for the gate, pulling it open as a fuel truck was driven through. Daryl pulled it to a stop beneath the watchpost, Sasha and Abraham helping her, Nat, and Enid down while Glenn climbed in the cab with Daryl. "What the hell happened?" Daryl questioned.

"I don't know, I just got back," Glenn answered as I climbed in beside them.

"Clary?"

"It was the Wolves," I panted. "Tried to get a truck through the gate, Spencer stopped 'em. It went into the tower, tower came down. Walkers got in. And Rick's makin' a stand, right now."

"Listen," Glenn proposed. "We can lead some of 'em away."

"They're scattered," I replied. "It won't work."

"We get 'em all together," Daryl said. "Won't have to lead 'em away."

"What're you gonna do?" I asked. "Lake of Fire or some shit?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"You've gotta be shittin' me," I sighed. Daryl hit the roof of the cab, signalling to the others to hold on, and he backed the truck up to the lake. Glenn and I scrambled out, taking out walkers that stumbled over and covering Daryl as he poured fuel into the lake. Maggie, Natasha, Sasha, Enid, and Abraham either joined Glenn and I or covered Daryl. He whistled after a few moments, and the others all climbed in the cab, while Daryl and I climbed on top of the truck. "How do ya wanna do this?" I questioned, pulling my crossbow off my back. "Flamin' arrow?"

"I was thinkin' rocket launcher," Daryl answered, holding one up.

"What'd y'all do, break into Fort Knox?"

Daryl barked out a laugh, then gestured towards me. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"Ooh, I kinda wanna blow shit up, _but_ it is your rocket launcher," I answered.

"I already blew shit up," Daryl told me. "Your turn."

"If you insist," I said with a shrug, trading weapons with him. The lake set on fire the second the grenade hits the water, and Daryl and I stood in silence on top of the truck, watching the fire, and the walkers drawn to it. "It's working."

Daryl wrapped his arm around my shoulders before jumping down, handing me my crossbow back after I pulled out my switchblade. Daryl drew his knife, and together, we started forward, continuing the counter attack against the dead. We fought, ignoring the blood splattering on our faces, ignoring everything but the dead in front of us. Everything but our target.

* * *

"You missed it, Carl," I whispered to him, gently running my fingers through his hair. "You shoulda seen it. All of us, we were there, fightin' 'em. Together. Even the people from Alexandria. And Glenn and Daryl, they're back. Daryl showed up with a rocket launcher, you know that? We blew up the lake."

"You saved this place," Rick said, speaking for the first time in a while. He looked up at me. "You and Daryl, you saved this place."

"We never coulda done it without the rest of y'all fightin'. It ain't nothin' special."

"Is that so?" Rick questioned, and I nodded once. He laid off the subject, and we slipped back into silence. After a while, he broke it, saying, "I was wrong." I looked up at him, wondering what he meant. "I thought after livin' behind these walls for so long that… maybe they couldn't learn. But today, I saw what they could do. What _we_ could do, if we work together."

I looked down at Carl, still unconscious on the bed beside me, as I threaded my fingers through his free hand, removing it from where it rested on his chest. "We'll rebuild the walls," Rick continued, and I stayed quiet, knowing now that he was speaking to Carl. "We'll expand the walls. There'll be more. There's gotta be more. Everything Deanna was talkin' about is possible. It's all possible. I see that now. When I was out there, with them, when it was over, when I knew we had this place again, I had this feeling. It took me a while to remember what it was." His voice shook as he continued. "Because I haven't felt it since before I woke up in that hospital bed." Rick rested his hand on Carl's head, his fingers brushing mine as he gently pushed his son's hair out of his face. "I want to show you the new world, Carl. I want to make it a reality for you. Please, Carl… let me show you. Please."

I closed my eyes, hanging my head as I silently begged Carl to wake up, to live. For Rick, for Judy, Michonne, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, for all of us. _For me._ _Please, Carl. Just live. Show me a sign, anything. You don't gotta wake up, not yet. Just show me a sign. One more miracle, please. Don't be dead._

I opened my eyes slowly as I felt his hand gripping mine. He held on tightly, as if he was afraid to let go. "I'm here, Carl," I whispered. "I'm right here. I ain't goin' nowhere." I leaned down, pressing my lips to his forehead. "C'mon, please. Open those baby blues for me."


	8. Goner

**Chapter 7: Goner**

 **Clary**

For the record, I was against the idea.

When a bunch of Alexandrians that think they're big shit because they know how to hold a knife wanted to go outside the walls, they put me in charge of them. Rick put me in charge of the toddlers of this world, and expected me to take them outside the walls for the first time on a run. Now, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be against it if they had some experience. If they were outside the walls, or hell, even fought to take back Alexandria, I wouldn't be against it. But these people had never seen a walker up close, had never killed one in their life, and I was expected to take them out and teach them the ways of the world. Like there's nothing that could go wrong with that plan.

It was two days after we took back Alexandria, Carl still out of it, when the Alexandrian rookies asked me if I could take them out. There were three of them, two guys, Matt and Josh, and a girl, Alycia. Matt and Josh were in Alexandria since the beginning, and Alycia came a little under a month into it, and none of them have been outside since. They were all young, none of them older than twenty-two, and they were about as excited to go outside as a kid in a candy shop. I wondered what the hell was wrong with them. There was nothing out there to be excited for. I was getting ready to leave the house to go check on Carl, and they ambushed me at the front steps, asking if I could take them out. I sighed, then said, "Get your shit and meet me by the front gate in ten. Anyone that's not there gets left behind."

The trio turned and ran off, one of the boys cracking a joke that caused Alycia to laugh. I sighed, then turned around and walked back inside the house. Bucky looked up as I entered, asking, "I thought you were leaving to check on Carl?"

"Change of plans," I replied, crossing the living room and climbing the stairs. "Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed want to go outside."

"What's a Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed?"

I paused at the second floor landing, leaning out over the railing to look down at him. "Oh my god, Buck. We're watching _The Lion King_ when I get home."

"Promise?" Bucky questioned.

I smiled softly. "Promise."

I turned and ducked into the room Carl and I shared, changing out of the canvas sneakers I had on and into my combat boots, still splattered with walker blood. I shrugged my jacket off, choosing to leave it behind after feeling how warm it was getting outside. I slipped off Sam Widmore's necklace, dropping it onto the nightstand. Since a walker grabbed it one time, nearly biting me, I've been leaving it in the house whenever I went outside the walls. Bucky met me at the porch steps, and I took his hand, allowing him to lead me down the street. "I'm still gonna go see Carl and Pietro before I go," I told him.

"I was heading that way anyway," Bucky replied. He glanced down at our intertwined hands, flesh and metal, murmuring, "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"Buck, honestly, you're as gentle as a lamb with that," I answered. "You've got it under control."

"I still worry," he admitted. "I _did_ swear I wouldn't hurt you."

"And you swore you'd always be there," I said, looking up at him. "You don't break your promises, Bucky. You never have. You never will."

Bucky paused as we stepped up onto the porch, then wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on mine. "Be careful out there," he said. "I've got a bad feeling."

"You always say that," I said, but returned the gesture. "Maybe if you went out, you'd be able to protect me."

Bucky sighed, knowing I was trying to get him to join us, the same way I always did. He released me, but kept a hand on my shoulder. "Maybe next time," he told me. "I'll come out next time."

"Then stay safe in here," I requested. Bucky nodded, holding the door open as I walked through. He followed me to where Pietro was laying on a cot, eyes closed. He opened them as we arrived, grinning slightly. "How's Carl?" he questioned.

"I was gonna go see him after I talked to you," I answered, taking one of Pietro's hands. "But he hasn't woken up yet. I'm scared he won't."

"He will," Bucky assured me, gently squeezing the hand that wasn't holding Pietro's. "He'll bounce back. That's what he does. You know that better than anyone."

I glanced down, then back at Pietro. "How're you feeling, Speedy?"

"Shoulder still hurts," Pietro said. "The usual."

"Any requests while I'm out?"

"Cookies and a book. Can't stand staring at the damn ceiling all day."

"Specifics on the book?"

Pietro thought for a moment before deciding, " _The Outsiders._ I started reading it in the hospital after Sokovia, but I never finished it."

"I have a copy at the house. Buck, you know where it is?" Bucky nodded once, and I looked back down at Pietro. "I'll get you cookies, hero."

"Thanks, _ingerul mortii._ "

"I've got no clue what you said, but I'm gonna take it as a compliment."

"He called you the 'Angel of Death,'" Bucky translated. Pietro rattled off something else in Romanian, and Bucky chuckled. "True. He says it's because you 'kill with grace.' That, and the whole wings thing with you and Daryl."

"Angel of Death, huh?" I questioned. "Just for that, I'm getting you _two_ packs of cookies." Pietro grinned as I leaned down, kissing his forehead. "See you 'round."

Pietro saw me off with a small wave before he went back to chatting with Bucky in Romanian, and I turned and walked into Carl's room. Rick looked up as I entered, asking, "Are you going out?"

"The Three Stooges have been trying to get me to take them out since I brought the Avengers back. I told 'em I'd take 'em out today. Just to get 'em to stop buggin' me." I gestured down to Carl. "Any change?" Rick shook his head. "Dammit. I'm not gonna take 'em far. Radio me if there's anything, okay? I won't hesitate to drop everything and get back here."

"You got it," Rick promised. "Be back soon."

"You got it," I echoed. I stepped around to the other side of the bed, leaning down to kiss Carl's forehead, then backed away. I turned and walked out, saying a quick hello to Denise, and Bucky waved me over to him and Pietro. "Hey, guys, I gotta get goin', so make it quick."

"Denise gave me the okay to leave," Pietro said. "Bucky was telling me that you guys were gonna watch _The Lion King_ when you got home _._ "

"Get Wanda and join us," I told him, knowing he was about to ask if he could. I turned and ran off, calling, "See you guys later."

"Don't do anything stupid!" Pietro called after me, and Bucky yelled, "Like you normally do!"

"How can I? I'm leavin' it all with you!" I laughed, pausing only a second to flip them off over my shoulder, before heading towards the gate. Two of the three were there when I arrived, armed with guns and knives. I turned as Josh arrived, panting, "Wait! I'm here! Don't leave!"

I closed my eyes, sighing at the nineteen year old. Josh was the youngest of the three at nineteen, Alycia the oldest at twenty-two, and Matt in between at twenty. "Alright," I said, motioning for the trio to line up. "Let me see what you got."

I went to Josh first, and he took a hunting rifle off of his shoulder. "Not bad," I said. "Good scope. Good choice." He took his handgun out, a Smith and Wesson. "M&P, this one holds ten rounds. Not what I would've chosen, but good for a beginner. Hope you picked up some extra clips if we run into trouble." Josh swallowed, holstered his gun, then pulled out a machete. "Machete. Wait a minute."

Josh paused, looking down at me. "Did I pick a bad one?"

I chuckled without humor. "No, this one… she's seen her share of blood. You grabbed Rick's red handled machete."

Josh paled, lowering the weapon. "Would you wait if I went and got another one?"

"Yeah, go," I told him, then turned to Alycia. "You're the one that's good with handguns. What're you carrying?" Alycia pulled out her weapon, handing it over. "Beretta, nice. What's this, a 92A1? Seventeen rounds. You did your homework." I passed the gun back to her, which she holstered before revealing her melee weapon. "Ooh, a kukri. You're serious about this. Good."

"Alright, Matty," I said as I turned to face him. "Let's see what you've got." He held up a shotgun. "Oh, a shotgun, okay. I can work with that. Definitely not what I would've chosen. Not the best for accuracy. BB's spray everywhere, ugh, it's a mess."

"I used to hunt when I was a kid," Matt told me. "My dad taught me to hunt with a shotgun."

"If you're a good enough shot, then use it. Handgun. What've you got?" Matt pulled his gun out of its holster, handing it over to me. "Oh, lookie here. Glock 17. Good choice. Knew a guy that used this one all the time. Granted, he tried to shoot me with it, but that's not the point." I handed the gun back to him, and Matt showed me a simple hunting knife. "Good. Keep it simple." I stepped back, looking them over. "Alright, you guys look good to go out. Now, where the hell is Josh?" As soon as I said that, he came running, stopping near the back of the car we were taking. "Well, speak of the devil. Alycia, you're the navigator. Boys... just sit in the back."

We climbed in the car, pausing at the gate to allow Eugene to open it for us. Tobin turned from where he was working on rebuilding the wall with Abraham, both men waving. There was a truck in place now, keeping any walkers that happened to come by out, and the two were rebuilding the wall around it. "Hey, Rock of Ages," I called up to Eugene.

He turned. "Yes?"

"I haven't had a chance to tell you. You did good the other night. You really stepped up. Welcome to stage two."

Eugene smiled at the compliment, and I pulled out of Alexandria, driving as Alycia rattled off directions for a store a little under ten miles out. We pulled into the parking lot, climbing out, weapons drawn. I led the way to the storefront, knocking on the door. I waited for the sound to draw the walkers, if there were any inside. "Where are they?" Matt asked.

"Just give it a minute," Alycia said, beating me by a second. "They move slow. Not that you guys have ever seen one."

Matt and Josh looked at each other, then jumped as a walker pounded on the glass. "Y'all ready?" I questioned, stepping away from where I leaned against the glass. "Who wants it?"

"I'll take it," Alycia volunteered, drawing her kukri. I pulled open the door, stepping back as the walker stumbled out, heading towards me. Alycia stepped in, killing it in one swing. Another one, one that we didn't see, stumbled out behind it, and I raised my crossbow to fire, barking to Alycia, "Duck!"

She hit the deck, but a gun fired before I could. The shot hit the walker in the jaw, but it wasn't enough to kill it. I fired, the arrow sinking into the walker's eye, and it dropped to the ground. I turned to Josh and Matt, barking, "What the hell did I tell you? You don't fire unless your back's against a wall! Which one of you was it?"

Matt slowly raised his hand, and I sighed, resisting the urge to punch him. "You're not ready," I said. "I didn't want to come out, because you weren't ready. But you just had to get out here, didn't you? Tell me, what makes you so damn excited to be out here? You haven't seen the shit that goes on. The shit that happens out here because of people like you!"

"Hey, take it easy," Josh tried. "He was just trying to help."

"He did the opposite," I snapped at him. "Every walker for a mile just heard that shot. They're gonna be on their way here."

"How do you know there's walkers around?" Matt questioned.

"There's _always_ walkers. It might be just a handful, or it might be a herd. But no matter how many there are, you just drew them to us." I looked around at the three, ordering them, "If there's more than what we can take, run for the car. If you can't make it to the car, run for Alexandria. If we make it out, we'll find you. But run for Alexandria and don't stop, no matter what."

"Yes, ma'am," Alycia said, giving a mock salute in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Can we go in?"

I nodded once, leading the way inside. We did a sweep of the store, finding it empty, before we began to look around for supplies. I stayed near the front, watching out the windows for walkers, as I looked for Pietro's cookies. I let the Stooges do the rest, wanting them to get the experience. "Remember," I called as I heard Josh mention he was having trouble finding anything. "There's nothing left in this world that isn't hidden."

I knelt on the ground, putting the cookies in my bag, then took a seat, closing my eyes and listening. I opened them when I heard the first snarl, stepping outside to take out the two walkers that stumbled upon us. I walked back inside, ordering, "Guys, think about hurrying it up. I just took out two walkers."

"Yes, ma'am," the three called, and I returned to looking out the window. I froze suddenly, seeing the many walkers stumbling out of the woods now. "Oh shit," I muttered, then yelled, "Time to go!"

"Clary?" Alycia called, putting her bag on her shoulder as she stepped out from behind shelf. "Oh my god. Can we take them?"

"If that's all there are," I answered. "But not with knives. Get Josh and Matt."

"Josh! Matt!" Alycia yelled, turning to get the two as I ran for the door, drawing my gun. I began firing on the walkers, then lowered my gun when I emptied my clip and they were still coming, increasing in number. Alycia, Josh, and Matt ran out behind me, Alycia drawing her gun and firing.

"What do we do?" Alycia asked, turning to look at me when her clip ran out.

"Run for the car!" I ordered, raising my gun after I reloaded and began firing on the walkers.

"Yeah, there's a problem with that!" Josh shouted, and I turned to find walkers separating us from the car, not even twenty feet away. I glanced over my shoulder at Matt as he began to fire, then found we were surrounded on all sides. "Clary! What do we do!"

I holstered my gun, drawing my knife, and Alycia copied my movement. "Back to back, make a circle," I ordered. "We fight through 'em. Get up close, shove 'em back. You push through, head for Alexandria. We have to lose 'em before we can find another car."

Suddenly, Josh screamed, and I turned to find a walker grabbing him, sinking its teeth into his shoulder. A second grabbed him, and they pulled him down, screaming all the way. "Keep fighting!" I barked. "He's gone."

I glanced over, only to find Alycia fighting through them, heading in the direction of the car. She fought against them and didn't stop, making her way through nearly all of them without waiting for Matt and I. But, hey, I told them to do that. At least they were finally listening. "Alycia! Get out and run!" I yelled to her. "Don't wait for us!"

On my right, Matt let out a scream as a walker took him from behind, biting into his neck. I kept fighting through, trying to reach Alycia. I tried to shove off a walker as it grabbed me, only to let out a cry as it tore into my arm. "Alycia, run!" I yelled, but she was already gone.

I stabbed the walker that bit me, shoving its body away, and gunfire suddenly erupted from my right, the opposite way that Alycia ran. "Come on!" a man yelled. "We can help!"

I dropped my knife as I ran, holding my right arm as it bled. Two men came to my rescue, one of them picking off the remaining walkers. The second dropped his gun as I ran, pulling off a belt and holding it, waiting for me to arrive. As soon as I reached them, he was tightening it on my arm, a few inches above the bite. "What's your name?" he questioned.

"Clary," I answered as he pulled out a machete. "Clary Dixon. Just do it. Whatever you need to. I don't wanna die today."

* * *

 **Bucky**

"Something's wrong," Pietro said from where he sat on a couch across from me. "I can feel it. There's something wrong."

"What is it?" Wanda questioned, looking up from where she sat beside her brother, the twins curled up on the second couch.

"I don't know," he said. "But there's something."

"You think it's Clary?" Steve questioned.

"Oh, god," I breathed, getting to my feet at that.

"Buck!" Steve called. "Where are you going?"

"The gate!" I replied. "I think Pietro's right! She should've been back by now!"

I ran through Alexandria, using the moon and porch lights to guide me to the gate. I arrived just as it was being pulled open, and I was able to make out a girl stumbling through. She dropped to her knees once she was inside, and I ran to her, calling, "Clary!"

She looked up, and I slowed to a stop when I saw it wasn't Clary, but the girl she had been taking on the run. "Alycia?" I questioned. "Where is everyone?"

"Josh's dead!" she sobbed, and I turned as Steve arrived, placing a hand on my back. Wanda was hobbling behind him on crutches, and Pietro was beside her, still taking it slow as he healed. "Bucky?" Pietro called. "What is it?"

"Something went wrong," I answered.

Steve pushed past me, kneeling next to the blonde. "Alycia?" he questioned. "Alycia, what happened?"

She let out a sob, unable to speak. Steve helped her up, wrapping an arm around her as he started for the infirmary. I knew Rick would still be in there with Carl, who had yet to wake up, so I took off for Daryl and Glenn, knowing they'd want to be there as Clary was the one that took Alycia outside the walls. The twins followed Steve, and as soon as I found Daryl and Glenn, Maggie tagging along as well, we headed towards the infirmary. Alycia was sitting at a table, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Wanda was sitting in a chair to her left, Rick and Michonne in chairs to her right. Pietro took a seat next to his sister, and Rick got to his feet, giving the last seat to Maggie, who had recently made it public that she had a bun in the oven. "What the hell happened out there?" I questioned.

"We were clearing a store," Alycia said, then paused to sniffle. "Matt was trigger happy. He fired. Clary, she said it'd draw every walker for a mile, and it did. Maybe fifteen minutes later, we were surrounded. Josh, he went down first." Alycia paused to cry, and Wanda tried to comfort her by patting her shoulder. "Clary told us to fight, to make a break for it and just run. To run for Alexandria, just get away from the herd, and we'd regroup later. Matt went down just as I got out of it. Clary told me to run, so I did. I didn't look back. She said she'd find me. I waited for her, but… but…"

Alycia tried to continue, but she broke down in tears, unable to go on. Pietro got to his feet, turning away from the table and walking out the door. I started after him, only to pause when I heard a thump. Glenn knelt next to Daryl, who had dropped to his knees, shaking. Glenn shared a look with me, then nodded me on. I left him to comfort Daryl while I took off after Pietro, spotting him as he neared the armory. I ran to catch up with him, calling, "Pietro! The hell do you think you're doing?"

Pietro ignored me, climbing the stairs and heading into the armory. I followed him in, standing in the doorway as he loaded a gun. "What do you think you're doing?" I repeated, and he ignored me again. "Pietro!" He took a knife, securing the sheath to his belt before holstering the gun. The runner started around me, but I reached out, catching his arm before he could exit. "Pietro, what're you doing?"

"She's out there, Barnes," Pietro said. When he turned to face me, I saw his eyes were shining with tears. "I have to help her."

"Okay, man, I get it, I do," I said. "I really do, okay? But you can't go out there. You're still healing. You can't make this kind of trip the way you are. I'll go. She means just as much to me as she means to you. I'll go out after her, and I don't know if I'll find her, but I'll do my damndest. If you won't stay behind for me, then do it for her. You know Clary wouldn't want you out there like this."

"Find her, Bucky," Pietro pleaded. "Please."

"I'll do everything I can," I promised. I turned and walked out after taking the gun and knife he took, not voicing my doubts. He didn't need to hear them. _You're not going to find her. You know she's gone. You're gonna get yourself killed out there._

"Shut the fuck up," I muttered to myself, only to receive a strange look as I passed a woman on the street. I turned when I felt a hand on my arm, realizing the woman I passed was Tara. She asked, "Are you okay?"

"Clary's M.I.A.," I told her. "The three people she took out today, Alycia's back but the other two are dead. They were surrounded by walkers. I don't know if she made it out. I have to find her."

"Give me a minute and I'll go with you," Tara requested.

 _You're gonna get her killed, too._

 _SHUT UP!_

"Whoa, man, I'm sorry," Tara said, raising a hand as she backed away. I looked down as I realized I said the last bit out loud, mumbling an apology. "You want me to stay back? In Alexandria?"

"No, come," I told her. "I could use a second pair of eyes."

Tara nodded, and she met me a few minutes later by the car I pulled up in front of the gate. She climbed in the passenger seat as the gate was opened, and I pulled out of Alexandria. "Are you okay, Bucky?" Tara questioned. "I mean, really okay? Like, mentally?" I shook my head. "You wanna talk about it?" I paused for a second, then nodded. "What's going on up there?"

"I… I keep having these thoughts," I told her. "No, not suicidal or anything. Just, I keep having these doubts that we're gonna find Clary. I don't want to believe it, but some part of me keeps saying that she's gone."

"She's not," Tara said. "We're gonna find her."

"Some part of me keeps saying that I'm getting myself killed by coming out here after her. Tara, when I shouted, I wasn't shouting at you. I'm sorry that it came across that way. I didn't even think I said any of it out loud. That part, it said I was gonna get you killed if you came out here with me. I'm not, Tara. I'll promise you that."

"I believe you, Bucky. And, hey, it's okay. We all have our inner demons. The part of you that's saying that stuff, it's in me, too. You know, Clary, she… she killed Lily. My sister, Lily. She killed my big sis. Lily and I, we weren't that close, but when the shit hit, we holed up in an apartment with our dad, Lily's daughter. My niece, Meghan. Meghan, she thought you, the other Avengers, she thought you guys were the best thing since sliced bread. But that day, when the Governor attacked you guys… I don't know how it happened, but Meghan was dead. I think she was bitten. And then Clary, after Terminus, she told me. She asked me if I had a sister that had a little girl, and she told me she shot Lily. I was pissed at first, but then she explained why she killed her. I understood why she did it. I never thought Lily would make it myself, and then when Meghan died, I knew she wouldn't. I was just glad that she didn't suffer, so I forgave Clary. But that part of me, it's questioning why I'm out here, why I'm helping you search for the girl that killed my sister. But that's why. Because she's still a kid, and I think a lot of people don't realize that. They don't look past her tough-as-hell exterior. They don't see that she's just a scared little kid."

"You know," I said, glancing over at Tara, "she's gonna be pissed when she finds out you called her a kid."

Tara chuckled at my attempt to lighten the mood, and that immediately faded when she said, "Bucky. Bucky, look."

She pointed to a store up ahead, a car parked in front of it, and walker bodies, enough to make up a small herd, on the ground. About half a dozen stumbled around, a few more feeding on two bodies. We got out of the car, taking out the walkers in the area. "That's Josh and Matt," I said as we turned on our flashlights. "Alycia said they went down."

"I don't see another body," Tara said. "I think she's alive."

I shined my flashlight down on the ground, noticing a trail of blood. I followed it, stopping when I saw a bag on the ground. "Tara," I said, heading towards it. "It's her bag." I knelt next to it, seeing all the blood on the ground. "Tara, she was hurt. All this blood, it's bad. She was bit."

"She could still be in the area, right?" Tara questioned. "Right, Bucky?"

I didn't bother following the rest of the blood trail, where it was heavier. "All this blood she lost, plus the possibility of a fever," I said. "Tara, it doesn't look good. At all. If she was around, she had to have passed out. There's no way she didn't. The smell of blood would draw walkers."

"She's gone," Tara said, sinking to the ground beside me. "All that she survived, for it to end like this."

"I don't know how she could've survived."

At that, Tara started crying, whimpering about how she was sorry for being angry with Clary when she first learned about Lily. I wrapped an arm around her, and she buried her face in my shoulder, shaking as she cried. "It's not safe out here," I said. "We should get home."

Tara nodded, and I picked up Clary's backpack before pulling Tara to her feet. She leaned against me, sniffling as we made our way to the car. I opened the door for her, closing it once she was inside. I quickly gathered the weapons of the fallen, dumping them in the backseat before I climbed in the driver's seat. We drove home in silence, Tara crying the entire way. The gate was rolled open for us as we arrived, and we drove in, only to be met by Pietro as soon as we were out of the car. "Clary?" he questioned, then looked down at the bag I handed to him. His voice broke as he saw she wasn't with us, and I've never heard anyone sound as heartbroken as he did when he asked, "Whe―where is she?"

"Pietro," I started.

"Bucky, where is she? I can't lose her."

"Pietro," I said again, and he fell to his knees, sobbing. "I'm so sorry." I knelt beside him, wondering why I wasn't crying. It wasn't until after until I realized how numb I was, from the shock of Clary being gone. "I know how you feel. I understand it. I loved her more than anything in this life."

He sniffed, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. "I told her I'd protect her."

"I did, too," I whispered. "I promised her I wouldn't let anything happen to her."

"I was too late," Pietro said. "You know, for a guy who moves as fast as me, I always seem to be too late."

* * *

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as I stood outside Carl's room in the infirmary. Yesterday, after he woke up, Rick told me he was asking about Clary. Asking where she was. He told me he didn't say anything, not knowing how to. So I asked Rick to wait, to let me be the one to tell him. And now, three days after Clary died out there, none of us knowing how, I had to tell the boy she loved. I sighed, opening my eyes. "Come on," I muttered to myself. "You can do this."

I raised my hand, knocking on the door. Rick answered almost immediately, stepping aside to allow me in. "Bucky!" Carl said, grinning at the sight of me. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah, you too, kid," I replied. I glanced over at Rick, and he nodded once, understanding that I was asking him to leave us while I told Carl. He closed the door behind him as he left, and I took a seat at the end of Carl's bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Denise has me on these wicked strong pain meds right now," Carl told me, still grinning. "I barely feel anything."

"That's good," I murmured. "Good."

"I thought Clary would've been here by now," Carl said, his grin fading. "Or at least with you."

"Yeah, me too," I said quietly, looking anywhere but at him. "She didn't leave your side the first day after everything."

"Bucky, what's wrong?" Carl asked. "Something's wrong. Tell me." I didn't answer, but Carl seemed to piece it together. "It's Clary, isn't it? Where is she?"

"I don't know," I replied, hanging my head in shame. "I don't know."

"She was taken, then? By who?"

"She wasn't taken, Carl," I said.

"Then where is she? When will she be back?"

"She's not… Clary's never coming home, Carl."

"No…"

"I'm sorry."

"Bucky, please…"

"She's dead."


	9. Guns For Hire

**Chapter 8: Guns for Hire**

 **Rick**

We thought we were alone.

" _Paul Rovia. But my friends used to call me Jesus."_

We thought we were the only community.

" _That's us. That's the Hilltop."_

We're not.

" _Gregory made a deal with some people. They call themselves the Saviors."_

We were not safe. We were in danger.

" _They killed the others. They still have Craig."_

We had to do something, so we volunteered to take care of it. Once and for all.

" _We'll do it. We'll take 'em out."_

It was up to me to convince my people, the Alexandrians, that we should do this. I had to convince them so the ones that were here before we arrived, the ones that weren't survivors like us, would fight beside the survivors. "We can work with the Hilltop," I said from my spot at the front of the church, where I gathered everyone to tell them. "Maggie hammered out a deal. We're getting food. Eggs, butter, fresh vegetables. But they're not just giving it away. These Saviors, they almost killed Sasha, Daryl, and Abraham on the road. Now, sooner or later, they would've found us. Just like those Wolves did. Just like Jesus did. They would've killed someone or some of us. And then, they would try to own us. And we would try to stop them.

"But by then, in that kind of fight, low on food, we could lose. This is the only way to be sure, as sure as we can get, that we win. And we have to win. We do this for the Hilltop. It's how we keep this place. It's how we feed this place. This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here's your chance to say your piece."

Morgan, he was the first to stand. It didn't surprise me, really, that he was the one to voice his doubts. "You're sure we can do it? We can beat 'em?"

"What this group has done, what we've learned, what we've become, all of us. Yes, I'm sure."

"Then all we have to do is just tell them that."

"They don't compromise, Morgan."

"This isn't a compromise. It's a choice you give 'em. It's a way out, for them and for us."

"We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety. No, we have to come for them before they come for us. We can't leave them alive."

"Where there's life, there's possibility."

"Yeah, the possibility of them hitting us."

"We're not trapped in this. None of you are trapped in this."

"That's funny," an accented voice drawled from the back of the church. Heads turned to the Sokovian, and Pietro got to his feet. "It's funny you would say that. I know what it is to be trapped, and we are not that. But we made a promise."

Bucky said, "Someone very important to me once told me something that I think about a lot. She told me I've never broken a promise I made to her. That was because promises are something you don't break, no matter what." He looked down, continuing, "No, that's not quite true. I did break a promise, and it was one to her. I swore to her that I'd be there to save her, whenever she needed me, and I wasn't there when she died."

We all looked down as we realized he was talking about Clary, whose death still hurt all of us, even after these months. I looked up as Bucky stood, declaring, "I'll stand with you, Rick. We fight against them. We made the promise to the Hilltop that we would, so that's what we'll do. Even if no one else does, I'll be there."

"Thank you, Bucky," I said.

He nodded once, and Pietro said, "Well, hell, I guess I'm already standing." He cracked a grin, despite the situation. "Yes, Rick, I'll follow you."

Wanda stood next. "I will, too."

"You know I'm there, man," Daryl said. "Whatever we do. We do it in her name."

"To honor Clary Dixon," Glenn agreed, speaking a name that hasn't come out of our mouths since her demise. It was always there, hanging in the air, her ghost hovering, but no one dared to say it aloud.

"For Clary," Clint said. "And I think I know where this is going. I think I know we're going to war, but there might be people that don't want to fight."

"Morgan wants to talk to them first," I said. "I think that would be a mistake, but it's not up to me. I'll talk to the people still at home. I'll discuss it with the people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviors, talk to them first?"

Aaron stood, and for a minute, I thought he was going to object. "What happened here, we won't let that happen again." He looked at Morgan. "I won't." He nodded once to me, and I knew he was on my side. Aaron started to take a seat, then stood back up again, having more to say. "I don't know about the rest of you, but the ones that have stood, we're doing this in the memory of a fallen hero. She's not here to save us anymore, the way she used to. It's up to us to do it ourselves. When I found that the Wolves found their way here because of a bag that I dropped, that had a map and pictures of this place in it, I blamed myself. I blamed myself for their attack on this place. But Clary convinced me it wasn't. She told me I didn't make the decision for them to attack, that I fought to keep them at bay. I fought to defend this place, and to kill them. I killed that day, and the people in this room, they did, too. The twins, they took bullets that day. We lost some of ours, but we kept this place standing. So that's why we have to hit them first, so we can keep this place standing _without_ losing any of ours."

"Looks like it's settled," I said. "We know exactly what this is. We don't shy from it. We live. We kill them all. We don't all have to kill. But if people are gonna stay here… they do have to accept it."

* * *

 **Bucky**

I gathered with around a table with the Alexandrians, Rick's group and the Avengers, that were going to fight, along with Andy, from the Hilltop, and Jesus. I grabbed a Sharpie, passing it over to Andy as Michonne spread a paper out in front of him. He was the only one that knew the compound we were going to hit, so we needed him to draw it out. He described it as he drew, saying, "Rectangular building. Big satellites on it."

"Any windows?" I questioned.

"I don't remember," Andy answered. "I think they made it so there's only one way in."

"Guards outside?"

"Yeah, two of them, at least."

"And you don't know how many people they have?" Michonne questioned.

"No," Andy replied. "Uh, I mean, not really. But I saw a place where they stored food. It wasn't that big, so…"

"You've been inside?" Rick questioned.

"Yeah. They had us load in supplies one time."

Glenn slapped another piece of paper down in front of him as he asked Andy, "What do you remember?"

He didn't speak as he drew the inside, quiet as he thought. "You didn't see any other rooms?" Maggie questioned, looking at the drawing from across the table as he labeled one _pantry._

"No," Andy answered. "It's a big place. This is the hallway I saw. There _is_ more."

"And every time, they had you bring things into here?" Michonne asked, pointing to the pantry.

"So we're going in blind, essentially," I said. "Okay. I've done more on less."

"We brought a couple of spears for them," Andy continued. "Two of the Saviors took them down this hallway. Now, they must've done something with them because they didn't come back with them."

"Maybe a weapons locker," Jesus suggested.

"Exactly," I agreed. "An armory. Swing a right at the end of this hallway. That's what we go for. We take the armory, we take the compound."

"That's how Carol ended it here," Maggie said, remembering the Invasion of Alexandria.

"But we don't know if they have an armory, or where it even is," Andy sighed.

"Well, we've got a lot of good guesses," Daryl said. "Like Bucky said, we've done more with less."

"We go in at night while they're sleeping," I said. "Use knives, keep it quiet."

"The guards won't be sleeping," Andy pointed out. "Like I said, I think there is only one way in and there is no way to bust through that door without waking up the rest of them."

"We don't need to," Rick said. "They're gonna open it for us. Let us walk right in."

"They want Gregory's head, right?" I questioned. "We're gonna give it to 'em."

* * *

As we slowed to a stop, the drivers pressed on the horn, using the noise to draw any walkers nearby. Our big plan to trick the Saviors into thinking we killed Gregory was to find a walker that looks like him, and give them its head.

We climbed out of the vehicles, breaking off into groups. "You know what to do," Rick called from the lead. "Break off every quarter mile. We'll meet back here in a couple of hours, see what we got."

Steve joined me as I met up with Glenn and Heath, putting his shield on his arm. We broke off about a mile from the group, heading into the woods. We stood around in a clearing, and Heath glanced up at me after a few minutes. "You've done stuff like this before?"

I nodded once. "Yeah."

"You remember it?"

"Yeah, I remember all of it. Everything I did as… him. As the Winter Soldier. It doesn't go away. I still see it."

"That sucks, man."

"It does. And… I remember their faces. Everyone that I've killed. Stark's parents, they were the worst. It's been over twenty years and I still remember it like it was yesterday."

"That wasn't you, though," Glenn said. "I mean, it was your body, but it wasn't your mind."

"Guys," Steve said. "We've got walkers."

Steve started forward, and the rest of us followed, taking down the few walkers that stumbled upon us. We gathered around one of them, Heath questioning, "What do you think?"

"Maybe," Glenn said, kneeling to get a better look at the walker. "If we, uh, cut the hair, trim the beard. If it's dark."

"We're gonna kill those people," Heath said as Glenn straightens, watching him. "Tonight. Look, I've been lucky. I haven't had to do it before. Have you?"

"I've been lucky, too," Glenn said.

"You nervous?" Steve asked, and he received nods from the two.

Glenn asked, "Have you ever seen something that, um, afterwards, you… you didn't want to sleep and you weren't hungry because when you close your eyes… you could see it? And when you try to eat…"

"Yeah," Heath said.

"Me, too."

"I think we all have," I said. "I _know_ I have."

"Killing somebody has got to be worse than that," Glenn said, looking up at Heath. "It has to be. So, yeah, I'm nervous. For the whole thing."

* * *

 **Glenn**

"Something's wrong," I muttered, watching as Andy pulled up to the compound's door. "There's no guards on watch."

"Maybe it's a changing of the guards?" Pietro suggested.

I shook my head as I saw Andy wave to where Daryl was, gesturing him over. "It's not that. I think… I think they're dead."

Daryl raised his hand, waving us all to them. We stepped out of the woods, running to meet them in the center of the parking lot. "It wasn't walkers," Daryl said, gesturing down to the dead men. "Someone's here."

"What do you mean?" Rick asked.

"There's someone else," Bucky said. "Another group, maybe. But they just hit this place."

"Then where's Craig?" Andy questioned.

"He might be inside," I said. "Someone get Jesus."

Pietro took off, returning about a minute later, piggybacking a slightly disoriented Jesus. "Be ready for anything," Bucky said, drawing his gun. "They could still be in here."

"You mean we're still going in?" Heath questioned.

"Craig's in there, if he's not dead," Jesus said. "Yeah, we're going in."

Bucky knelt, digging in the pockets of the two dead guards, and he pulled out a set of keys. He tossed them to Daryl, who held the door open as we filed inside, weapons raised. We started splitting off, checking every inch of the place. "Check the doors," Rick ordered in a whisper. "Find the arsenal. We take them out."

"Rick," I said, sliding open a door, only to find two dead bodies behind it. "Oh, holy shit. Rick, they're all dead."

"I've seen this before," Bucky suddenly said. "But it was me."

"Buck?" Steve questioned, resting a hand on the ex-assassin's shoulder.

"I've done something like this before. When I was the Winter Soldier." Steve dropped his hand to Bucky's, gently squeezing it. "There were other Winter Soldiers. But I thought they were all dead."

"We could possibly be dealing with an enhanced supersoldier, a master assassin," Steve said. "Rick, I need everyone that's not an Avenger out. The rest of us, we'll sweep the building. We'll make sure they're not here, look for Craig. We'll get you when it's safe to come in."

"You got it," Rick said. "But I want Daryl to stay. He's a tracker."

"If you're up for it," Steve said. "It could be dangerous."

"What do I have left to lose?" Daryl questioned. "I'll stay."

"I'll stay, too," I volunteered.

"Glenn, you sure?" Rick questioned, and I nodded. "Okay, I'll get everyone out. Michonne?"

"I'll get 'em," she said. Michonne took off to get the others, and Rick led Aaron, Rosita, and Heath outside. Pietro arrived a few seconds later, setting Wanda down. Clint, Natasha, and Stark were about a minute behind. "Everyone out?" Steve questioned, and Wanda nodded.

"What're we up against?" Natasha questioned.

"Someone like Bucky," I said. "Another supersoldier."

"Wanda," Stark said, taking control now. "Do you think you could do your thing, find them?"

Wanda nodded, closed her eyes, spreading her powers out to find the assassin. "There's someone," Wanda said after a minute. "He's in a room, alone. He's… he's scared."

"That'd be Craig," I said. "Which way?"

"Hold up," Daryl said. "We can't go barrel assing after him. The person that did this, they're more dangerous than the Saviors. We've gotta find 'em and take 'em out."

"There's someone else," Wanda said. "They're hurt. They're not a threat. The person that did this is gone." She opened her eyes. "Craig's this way. Someone want to get Rick?"

Pietro was gone before the second was up, heading out to get everyone else while we went for Craig. "He's in there," Wanda said as we stopped outside a door.

Steve threw open the door, while Bucky reached in and pulled Craig out. The man from Hilltop squirmed under Bucky's grip, crying, "Don't hurt me!"

"Craig," I said. "It's alright. We're not going to hurt you. Jesus, Buck, let him go."

Bucky released Craig, who backed up until he was against a wall, looking around at us. He asked, "Who are you people?"

"We're friends," Stark said. "We know Jesus, Gregory. We're here to rescue you."

"Craig!"

The call came from down the hall, and Andy and Jesus ran to meet their friend from the Hilltop. Andy wrapped him in a hug, while Jesus hung back. "It's good to see you, Craig," Jesus said, placing a hand on his arm. "But what the hell happened here?"

"There must be a place around here where we can talk," Rick said, joining the rest of us, everyone else filing in behind him. "You find them?"

"They're long gone," Bucky answered.

We found our way to the place that served as their cafeteria, and sat Craig down at a table. Rick took a seat in a chair near him, Jesus and Andy on the other side. "What happened?" Rick questioned. "Who did this?"

"There's been talk of a new player on the board," Craig said, glancing up from his hands. "Most of the Saviors don't think she exists. Well, they didn't, anyway. The ones that did, they called her the Executioner. She's a ghost. The one that did this, you'll never find her. She's fast, accurate. If she wants you dead, then you're dead. It took her five minutes, if that, to take out every single Savior in here. I never left that room, 'cause I didn't know if she was gone. I caught a glimpse of her when the guard that was with me went out to fight. It was just a glimpse, so I don't remember much. Uh, dressed all in black. In a suit, like something the Black Widow would wear."

"What, so she's a combination of Bucky and I?" Natasha questioned. "Anything else?"

"Dark hair, um, she had this… war paint or something around her eyes. I mean, it was like so she'd blend in."

"Did she speak?" Rick questioned. "Did she look familiar?"

"Like I said, I only saw her for about five seconds. No, she didn't look familiar at all. She had this mask, thought, that covered the lower half of her face."

"Sounds like what you wore, Buck," Steve said.

"Yeah," Bucky muttered, pushing himself away from the table he was leaning against. "Can you remember anything else? Something that stood out?"

"Yeah," Craig said, looking up, towards the Winter Soldier. "She had a metal arm."

"Oh my god, that's her," Jesus suddenly said, causing heads to turn. "I know her. I've seen her. It was about two days before I met you guys."

"What happened?" Bucky demanded, leaning down to look at him.

"When I was out there, I overheard some people talking about someone called the Executioner. I heard the name once before, the day before, when Gregory made a deal with a second group. I never thought she was real. These two guys, they started saying some stuff that made me realize I needed to get the hell out of there. I turned to run, but this third guy grabbed me. It was the middle of the night. I didn't even see him. This guy, he dragged me to the road, put me on my knees. I thought I was dead. Next thing I know, these guys, they're getting their asses handed to them by this girl in all black. She had a mask, like what Craig said. It came off during the fight. After it's done, after they're dead, this girl, she turns to me and she says, 'I was never here.' She turned to run, but I called after her. I wanted to know who she was. I had to. She stops, and what she said, I'll never forget it. 'They call me the Executioner.' Then, she was gone. Like a ghost."

"You've seen her face?"

"It was dark, hard to see, but… yeah."

"You could identify her?"

"If I saw her again, heard her speak."

Bucky looked down as he reached into his pocket, asking, "Did she look like—"

"James," Steve said, putting a hand over Bucky's, stopping him from pulling out the picture of Clary he kept. "Don't. She's long dead."

"You thought I was dead," Bucky returned. "For seventy years."

"It was war, not the apocalypse. She's dead. Let it go."

"You mentioned a second group," Rick noted.

"Who were they?" Bucky questioned.

Jesus looked down at his hands, as if he was ashamed to admit Gregory made a deal with this group. "Everyone knows about them." He glanced up at Bucky. "You know them better than anyone."

"Who were they?" Bucky repeated.

"Hydra."

* * *

 **The Executioner**

"They're on the move," I reported through my earpiece, speaking Russian like my handlers. I shifted in the tree I was perched in, watching the group that came through a pair of binoculars. After I took out the compound last night, we stayed, wanting to make sure I didn't miss anyone inside, or anyone that might not have been in the compound when I went in. "The group. I don't think they're Saviors."

"No," one of my handlers agreed in the same language. "They're someone else. Let's watch them."

"Whoa, Sokolski," I said, staring at a guy with dark, curly hair and a beard. "That dude looks like you."

"Yeah, he kind of does," the handler in charge agreed.

We watched as two of them, a dark skinned guy and a brunette lady, climbed in an RV after saying goodbye to the rest of the group, then drove off. The group watched the two leave, then turned as a door opened, a motorcycle roaring to life. They took off as one of the Saviors, someone that I saw but didn't go after because I thought I imagined him, drove out from the compound. "Fuck," I said. "I wasn't sure if I saw him or not last night. I didn't go after him 'cause I thought I didn't."

"You missed someone?" my second handler questioned. "Oh well, it looks like they're taking care of it."

One of the women opened fire on the Savior, knocking him off the bike, and a man with a vest, angel wings sewn on the back, ran to meet him. The Savior scrambled to his feet, but Angel Wings knocked him back to the ground before he could get up. Wings straddled the Savior, throwing punches. He barked to him, "Where'd you get the bike?"

The Savior tried to fight back, and the dude with curly hair, who looked to be in charge, aimed his gun at him. He looked up at the leader, shouting, "Just do it! Like you did everyone else, right?"

"They're not taking him out," I noted, getting anxious. If this guy wasn't dead by the time we left, I'm in for it. I learned early on not to fail in my missions. _Just because I couldn't kill a little girl._

"Executioner," Sokolski said. "Take him out. The one on the ground."

I nodded once, taking my sniper rifle and heading through the trees for a better shot. I slowed to a stop as I saw a group of people in a clearing, and hunkered down behind a tree, not sure who was Savior and who wasn't. Two women, the one with long hair younger than the one with short hair, were held at gunpoint by a brunette about the age of the younger one. Two older women stood by, the redhead with a walkie talkie, while the older of the two bandaged the arm of a man. "What's happening?" the man questioned, looking to the redhead. "Paula?"

Into the walkie, Paula ordered, "Lower your gun, prick. You, with the Colt Python." _The leader,_ I realized, remembering he held a Colt Python. "All of you, lower your weapons right now."

A moment later, the leader's voice came through the walkie. "Come on out. Let's talk."

"How many we got?" the older woman questioned.

"Fifteen, in sight," Paula answered. "Too many."

"No, we can take 'em," the man argued. "We took more."

"No, we're not gonna risk it," Paula said, then spoke into the walkie. "We're not coming out, but we will talk." To the two women, she ordered, "Names."

The older of the two woman, who said her name was Carol, was hesitant to give over her name, but complied once the younger one, Maggie, did it first.

"We've got a Carol and a Maggie," Paula said into the walkie. "I'm thinking that's something you want to chat about. Now, we're gonna work this out right now, and it's going to go our way."

"You can see we have one of yours," the leader said. "We'll trade."

"I'm listening."

"First, I want to talk to Carol and Maggie. Make sure they're alright."

Paula turned to her hostages. "I'm gonna put you on. You say you're fine. I'll know if you try anything else."

Paula gave it to Carol first, who said, "Rick, it's Carol. I'm fine, but—"

She pulled the walkie away, giving it to Maggie. "Rick, it's Maggie. We're both okay. We'll figure this—"

Paula told her to shut it, then said, "You got your proof. Let's talk."

"Alright, this is the deal," the leader, Rick, says. "Right here. Let 'em go, you can have your guy back and live."

"Two for one? That's not much of a trade."

"You don't have another choice. Or else you would've done something about it already."

"We have to get him back," the man said, still keeping one hand on his injured arm.

"Primo can take care of himself," Paula said.

"He can patch me up. I need him." He glanced over at Carol. "Thanks to that bitch. You lost your balls, Paula. You should've shot her in the head so they could hear her die."

Paula said, "If you could just shut up, I'll solve this."

"Then make the deal or we go in," he replied.

"She said shut up, so shut it," the old woman snapped. "You should be glad she doesn't have a sack of gonads to trip over."

Over the walkie, Rick said, "Look, I know you're talking it over. It's a fair trade. Just come out, we do this, we all walk away."

"Smug prick," the dark haired girl holding her gun on Carol and Maggie snapped. "Must think we're stupid."

"That's a good thing," Paula said.

"Do we have a deal?" Rick asked, grabbing their attention again.

"I'll get back to you." To the girl, Paula said, "You know what to do, Michelle."

The dark haired girl, Michelle, pulled Maggie's jacket so it was over her head, blocking her vision. As soon as she did the same to Carol, I stepped in. I fired on the one closest to Carol and Maggie first, knowing that she had a gun. Carol and Maggie instinctively ducked, but if I was shooting at them, they'd already be dead. The remaining Saviors turned to face me, and I fired on the old woman as she pulled out a gun. I holstered my gun, not wanting to draw any more of the dead to the area with more shots, while the two remaining Saviors backed away from me, shocked. The redhead turned to run, but before she made it five feet, I threw one of the knives I was carrying. She dropped to the ground, the knife stuck in her back. The man of the group backed away as I started forward, moving to hide behind Carol and Maggie, to use them as shields, as they pulled off the jackets covering their faces. "Take them," the man said, nudging Carol forward.

"I don't want them," I replied, reaching behind me to pull out my second knife.

"Vatican cameos!" Maggie suddenly cried, and the two dropped to the ground. I froze, remembering that I heard that before. "Look out!"

I snapped back, then raised my metal hand, using it to block the bullets from the Savior's gun as I made my way towards him. I kicked the gun out of his hand when he ran out of bullets, wrapping my hand around his throat. Despite him easily being a foot taller than me, I lifted him off the ground, watching as I choked the life out of him. His injured arm hung limply at his side, while he clawed at my hand, trying to free himself. Slowly, he stopped moving, and I dropped him before plunging my knife into his skull so he wouldn't turn. I stepped back, knocking someone to the ground when they touched my shoulder, raising my knife. "Whoa!" Maggie cried, then held up the knife I threw, gesturing for me to take it. "Easy."

I hesitantly took it, then stepped away from them, back towards the woods. I asked, "You guys alright?"

"What language is that?" Maggie questioned, accepting the hand Carol offered to pull her to her feet. "Is that Russian?"

I rolled my eyes, not understanding why she didn't answer my question, then picked up the sniper rifle I dropped. I took aim through the trees, searching for the Savior that was on the bike. I paused on the man with the vest, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar, and then did the same to the guy with the metal arm. I glanced over as Maggie tried to wrestle the gun out of my hands. "What the fuck?" I questioned. I used my right arm, the one made of metal, to pull the gun away; and I used my flesh one to shove her away, not wanting to hurt her. "I'm tryin' to help you."

"Executioner, what the hell are you waiting on?" Sokolski questioned.

I raised the rifle, then fired, watching the last Savior drop. There were cries of surprise from the group, Angel Wings shouting, "What the fuck!"

To Sokolski, I said, "I ran into others. They weren't there when I went in. They're taken care of. They were holding two of the other group."

Over the walkie, Rick's voice asked, "Carol! Maggie! You there?"

Carol picked up the walkie, telling him, "We're here."

"What the hell just happened?"

"Someone saved us."

"Is she in all black? A mask?"

"Yeah."

"It's the Executioner," Sokolski's look alike said. "We need to speak with her."

"Get Bucky. She speaks Russian."

" _Palach_ ," Sokolski ordered through my earpiece. "Get back here. Now."

"I've gotta ditch these girls first," I said. I secured the rifle on my shoulder, the strap across my chest because I knew I was going to have to run. "They're with the other group. They're not a threat."

"Get your ass over here," Sokolski repeated.

I took off, heading back towards my handlers. Behind me, I heard Maggie cry, "Hey! Wait!"

"Maggie, stop!" Carol called after her, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Maggie chasing after me through the woods, Carol behind her. But I knew this place better than her, having studied it during the scouting missions before I took the Saviors out.

"Sokolski," I said. "They're following me. Rendezvous at the river!"

I didn't have time to know if he heard me, or even if they would meet me, as I had nearly reached the cliff that overlooks this portion of the river. I didn't hesitate, running until I was at the edge. I jumped, and as I fell I heard Carol yell, "Maggie, don't! It's the middle of November!"

I hit the water, sinking below the surface. I stayed under, swimming back towards the cliff. I came up for air, pulling my mask off, unable to breathe through it wet. I gasped for breath, knowing the water would be cold but I didn't think that it'd be _this_ cold. I kept my back pressed against the rock wall, hoping the cliff created enough of an overhang to cover me from the two women. I looked for a place downstream to climb out, knowing I had to get out of this water soon. Then, I realized that with the last of their super soldier serum in my veins, _I couldn't get hypothermia._ Still, the water was cold and I didn't want to stay in longer than I had to. There was nothing before I reached the bend, and there was still a ways to go before I spotted a place to climb out, near where I was supposed to meet my handlers. The river started to pick up its pace as I reached the meeting point, where I had to climb back up a cliff. I caught hold of an edge as the current swept me past, pulling myself back up. I reached up, grabbing onto a ledge. I started my climb, this cliff higher than the one I jumped off. I almost slipped a few times, the rocks slick due to ice. "She's here!" I heard Sokolski call to the others.

When I reached the top, I almost lost my grip again, the rock there fragile. Maybe it was just my arm, the strength in it enough to punch through concrete like it's butter, so breaking rock's nothing. A hand was extended, and I looked up to see one of my handlers, the one that was nicer to me than the others, reaching down to pull me up. I ignored his hand, pulling myself up, but I did pass the rifle on my back to him, along with the mask I carried between my teeth. "Let's go, Executioner," Sokolski said as soon as I was standing.

I followed him, sitting in silence as we drove back to base. "The man with the angel wings vest," I said. "Who was he?"

"You saw him when we had you scouting earlier this week," Sokolski answered. "He was there at the Hilltop."

"I knew him."

"Your work's been a gift to mankind, or rather, what's left of it. You're shaping the new world. We're going to need you to do it again. This world, it's at a tipping point between Negan's rule and ours. We're going to give it a push. But if you don't do your part, then I can't do mine. And Hydra can't give what remains of this world the freedom it deserves. We can't save it from the dead."

 _"But I knew him."_


	10. But I Do Nothing Upon Myself

**Chapter 9: But I Do Nothing Upon Myself**

 **Bucky**

"Buck?" Steve questioned, his voice heavy with sleep. "Buck, what're you doing up? Come back to bed." I didn't turn away from the window, watching the empty street in the nighttime. I heard Steve climb out of bed, joining me. "What's wrong?"

"Her," I said. "I can't stop thinking about her."

Steve was silent for a moment, as if he was unsure he should ask. "The Executioner or… or Clary?"

"The Executioner," I answered. "Clary's long dead. Accept it."

"I never said I didn't. We all know she's dead. It's been three months, Bucky. You can't keep going like this. You don't sleep. You barely eat. You can't keep it bottled up inside."

"What do you want me to do, Steve?" I asked, turning to look at him. "Cry? Scream? Punch something?"

"Just talk to me," he said. "Please."

I took a seat on the bed, running a hand through my hair before I looked up at him. "I promised her I wouldn't let anything happen to her. I'd be there when she needed me. And where was I that night? Back here, doing nothing."

"You can't blame yourself," Steve tried, taking a seat next to me.

"Pietro… you know he blames himself, too, right? That night, when Tara and I got back, he said something and it's been stuck in my head. 'For someone as fast as me, I always seem to be too late.' We were both too late."

"I know," Steve said, looking down. "We always said we'd be there, everyone in this group did. It's what we do. We save each other. But sometimes, there are ones we can't save. Like Clary."

"I couldn't save Clary, but I owe it to her to save someone else," I said. "The Executioner, she's like me. We've gotta get in there and save her."

"We'll take it to Rick in the morning," Steve suggested. "For now, let's get back to sleep."

* * *

"I don't know," Rick said, looking up at me. "I mean, what if she doesn't want to be saved?"

"Are you fucking serious?" I snapped. "Do you actually think anyone wants to be with them? With Hydra? I sure as hell didn't."

"He's serious," Daryl said. "Alright, let's do it."

"We don't know anything about them," Clint said. "I mean, if this was two years ago, we could've gone straight in with the information from Bucky. But it's been two years and _everything_ has changed."

"Jesus," I said. "We need to talk to Jesus, at the Hilltop. He knew about her. We don't have time to waste."

"So the four of us?" Daryl questioned, looking around at the four gathered in the living room. Steve was on watch, leaving Rick, Clint, Daryl, and I. We nodded, and agreed to meet by the RV in twenty minutes. I headed to the armory with Daryl, who was silent as we looked over the weapons, trying to decide what to take. "This was hers."

I looked over as Daryl spoke, then saw the knife he was holding in his hand. Clary used to carry two knives, a switchblade that belonged to Merle, and her hunting knife. I knew Carl had her switchblade, which she left in her jacket in their room, but I forgot what I did with the hunting knife I found by her bag. I brought it back to the armory, when I went to go put away the weapons the rookies took out.

"I didn't realize it was," I told him. "When Tara and I brought the boys' weapons back. I didn't realize it was hers. Or else I would've given it to you."

"It's probably better you didn't," Daryl muttered, thinking it was quiet enough that I couldn't hear him, but I still did.

"Probably a good thing I didn't keep it, either," I replied, glancing over at him. I reached down, picking up the case that held the rocket launcher. "Think we'll need it?"

At that, Daryl cracked a grin, the first time he's smiled since Clary. Seeing that I made him happy for once, I grinned. "We'll take it just to be sure." We both chuckled. "No, I don't think we'll need her."

"Oh, her, now?" I teased. "Really? What, did you have a name for your crossbow, too?"

"Yes, her name was Kindness. So I could kill people with Kindness."

"That's the only kindness you'll ever have."

"Oh, shut it."

I rested my hand on his shoulder, making sure I had his attention. "I'm glad you're back."

Daryl glanced down. "It's gonna take a while."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "For all of us."

Daryl breathed out a sigh. "Yeah, you said it." He reached down, picking up the bag he had been filling. "C'mon, let's get goin'."

"Right behind you," I told him, grabbing a submachine gun as I followed him out. Clint and Rick were already in the RV, waiting by the gate when we arrived, Rick in the driver's seat. We climbed in, waiting for Eugene to open the gate before we drove out. Daryl and I took a seat on opposite sides of the table, spreading out the weapons we took in front of us. Clint sat on the sofa across from us, cleaning his bow and arrows. He took one look at all the weapons before he remarked, "Damn, you guys are loaded for bear."

"We're gonna wipe out an evil, not-so-secret organization that has a weapon of mass destruction equivalent to Bucky," Daryl said, sliding a magazine into a handgun. "I'd rather get in a fistfight with the bear."

I snorted at that, then nodded. "You and me both."

Clint called, "Hey, Rick! How much further to the Hilltop?"

"It's been five minutes," Rick sighed. "Five minutes, Clint, dear Christ. Probably another half hour, depending on the traffic."

"'Depending on the traffic,'" Clint mocked. "I was just asking."

* * *

Just as Rick said, thirty minutes later, we pulled up to Hilltop's gates. One of the men on guard, Kal, called down to us, "Who the hell are you?"

Rick climbed out of the RV, and the two men on guard lowered their spears. "We need to speak to Jesus and Gregory," Rick called up to them. "We have something we could use their help on."

Kal nodded to the other man on guard, and we all climbed out while they opened the gates for us. Rick lead the way up to the Barrington House, their headquarters, so to speak, the people of Hilltop looking down as we passed. It didn't surprise me that they wouldn't look at us, not after they saw Rick covered in the blood of one of theirs. Jesus greeted us at the door of the Barrington House with a smile, but I could see there was concern in his eyes. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon," he remarked.

"We need your help," Rick said. "Or rather, the information you have on Hydra. Every detail."

"You guys, you're not thinking of going up against them, are you?" Jesus asked. "Okay, you are. Come on in. We'll discuss this inside."

We gathered in Gregory's office, where the leader lounged in a chair. "Hello," he greeted us with a grin. "What brings you here?"

"Hydra," Daryl demanded. "What do you know?"

"We agreed to keep information we had on each other a secret to outsiders," Gregory said. "I'm not at liberty to say."

"Well, I think we can keep what happened in here a secret," I said, making sure my metal arm was visible as I leaned down. I put my hand on the couch beside his head, tightening my grip so the plates shifted, locking together. "You'd be surprised, the many ways to torture someone so they don't scream."

"Bucky, back off," Jesus tried, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Not until I get what I want," I replied. "And I want information on Hydra, because there's a girl like me locked up there, forced to do the same damn thing that I had to do for the past seventy years. This Executioner, she's like me. I don't know who she is, I don't know her story, but I _do_ know they're holding her there. They made her into a weapon, a one-woman army. No one, no matter what they've done, deserves what I know, from _personal experience_ , what they're doing to her. So we need to know what you know, 'cause we're gonna go save her."

"You need someone that's been there?" Jesus questioned. "Someone that's seen them? Take me with you." Rick opened his mouth to protest, but Jesus cut him off before he could. "Stop. I'm coming. She saved my life, and if she's being held there, captive, against her will, like Bucky says, then I want to save her. I owe her." He turned to me. "So let Gregory go, Bucky. I'll tell you everything you need on the way there. I was there when Gregory first met them. I've got the numbers, and you've got the skills. I'm thinking of a good, old-fashioned team up."

* * *

 **Pietro**

"You're thinking of something," Wanda said from where she sat across from me at the table. "What's on your mind?"

"You could just read it," I replied, glancing at her.

"Oh, but I promised you I'd never do that," she said, putting her spoon down in her cereal. "You haven't touched your food. What's wrong?"

"I can't stop thinking about what Carol said," I told her. "When they were in the forest. The Executioner, how she froze when Maggie said 'Vatican cameos,' but she didn't speak a word of English the entire time. She understood it, though. That's the thing. She knows English, but she only spoke Russian around them. Why?"

"She had something to hide?" Wanda suggested.

"But what? What'd she have to hide?"

"I don't know. A secret identity?"

"But why wouldn't she speak English? Would they recognize her voice? I mean, she was wearing a mask. They wouldn't recognize her face if they saw her again. And she took off when Rick said he wanted to meet with her."

"You think this Executioner is someone we know?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. Why else would she have saved Carol and Maggie, but didn't stick around long enough to let the rest of the group talk to her? She knows us."

"But what about the Vatican cameos? Do you think it plays a part in this?"

"It could," I said after a moment. "It was something she understood. She knew what it meant, that's for sure."

"Then who is it?" Wanda muttered.

I dashed off to the study, returning a moment later with paper and pens. I handed one to Wanda, taking the cap off of mine. "What do we know?" I asked, listing it off as I said it. "Dark hair, we know that. From what everyone said, she's young. Maybe our age or younger. Good shot."

"The arm," Wanda said, adding it. "But we don't know anyone with an arm like that."

"It could just be armor," I suggested. "But where would someone get something like that? Especially now?"

"She found it outside the walls," Wanda tried. "Or Hydra supplied it to her."

"So it would have to be someone that goes outside a lot. Whether they're supposed to or not."

"Pietro? You think it's…"

"Enid, yeah," I said. "I mean, she was outside the walls for a long time. She randomly disappears at times. You think you could find her?"

Wanda closed her eyes, spreading her arms as she used her powers to search the community. "She's not… She's not in here." Wanda opened her eyes, looking up at me. "She's not in Alexandria. Pietro, you might be right."

* * *

 **Bucky**

"I don't remember where it is, I'm sorry," Jesus apologized as he drew out a map of the Hydra compound, or what he saw of it. "They didn't exactly let us see where we were going. Or give us a grand tour."

"You went from Hilltop to the Hydra base, right?" Clint questioned. "You remember how long it took to get there?"

"Not exactly," Jesus said. "It would depend on how fast they were going, right? The speed and time, that would give us a radius of where it's at. Sorry, I think I've seen _Taken_ too many times."

"Or, you know, you could just ask me," I said. "Hydra has a thing for using their old bases. They don't really change it up unless it's compromised." I grabbed the map of the surrounding area off of the counter of where we sat in the RV, spreading it before me on the table. We sat gathered around it, drawing up our battle strategy, so to speak, before we left. I took a pen, marking off the locations of the Hilltop, Alexandria, and the Saviors compound. Then, I marked off the Hydra bases within a fifty mile radius. "Okay, here's what we have. These three—" I crossed off three of the bases. "—have been infiltrated by SHIELD since Hydra outed itself. That leaves these two. One is in the middle of DC. That's where I was when everything in DC happened. The other one is twenty miles west of Hilltop. Now, not even Hydra would be crazy enough to have their base in the middle of a walker infested city. So, this is where we're heading."

"You're sure?" Rick questioned, and I nodded. "Alright. West we go."

He climbed up front, while the rest of us remained gathered around the table. "You said you had numbers," Clint said, looking at Jesus, who sat beside him. "How many are there?"

"In the room where Gregory and their leader met, there were five, including the leader. I waited for them in a cafeteria type place. There were a dozen in there. So there's seventeen, at least. There's three exits, one guard posted at each. Twenty. From what I've gathered, there's always three people with the Executioner at any given time. Twenty-three. Then you've got the guys that just do the random jobs inside, like cook, laundry. Let's guess and say there's about thirty guys."

"They're all armed," I added. "Dangerous. This is Hydra, after all. We're putting the number at thirty, but I can guarantee there will be more. People that weren't there when Jesus was, people he didn't see. They have to have doctors, scientists, whatever. They would be the people that gave the Executioner her arm. She wasn't there when I escaped Hydra, so she hasn't been with them for more than two years. It's been three since I escaped. There's a very good chance that she became the Executioner during all of this. That means they're fully operational. She's programmed, and it is to kill. With the doctors and people that weren't there, it can be taken up to thirty-five. And it goes up with the Executioner."

"So assuming they split up evenly, come at us separately, that's seven each," Daryl said. "Is everyone okay with that?"

"You're asking two assassins if they're okay with killing?" Clint questioned. "We have to be. Rick's killed an amount that no one knows. Jesus?"

"Like you said, have to be," Jesus said. "You gotta do what you gotta do. This is the next world. She saved my life. Whatever it is that needs to be done, I have to do it for her."

"We wait until it's dark to go in," Daryl decided. "Take out the guards on duty, secure the exits. We have walkies. We can split up. If we get in trouble, call for help. But when it comes to the Executioner… Bucky, what do we do?"

"You get me," I instructed. "You hold her there until I arrive. She speaks Russian, but we know she understands English. That's good. Whoever runs into her, she'll understand you. Keep her there until I can get there, but don't keep her there by force. Treat her like a wounded animal in a corner. Make sure she knows you won't hurt her. If she wants to run, try to convince her to stay, that we'll get her out, but if she wants to go, you can't stop her."

"When we get in there, we split up," Rick said. "Bucky, your main job needs to be finding the Executioner. Snap her out of that programming. Everyone else, spread out. Take out who you can. Keep it quiet. We don't want to alert the entire base right away."

"We need to take the armory to make sure they don't get there first," Clint pointed out. "It's Hydra. They're going to have some very dangerous weapons. We need to make sure they can't use them against us."

"Everyone has their missions," I said. "And we have three hours until the sun goes down. It's time to suit up."

* * *

"The last exit's secure," Jesus reported through his walkie. Once Rick had the RV hidden, but not too far that we couldn't reach it if we had to fall back, he joined us as we gathered at the last exit. "When we get in there, we split off into two groups," I said. "Do a sweep of the entire building first. Take out anyone you see, quietly. Then split off and look for her. She's the priority. She's the mission."

"Ready?" Rick questioned, placing a hand on the door.

"Well, it's now or never," Clint remarked. "Let's do it."

Rick pulled open the door, and we entered, immediately coming to an intersection. As far as we could see, there was no one in the hall. I started right, Rick behind me, and the other three went left. We came to a corner, and I held out an arm to stop Rick as I saw a group of five men. I held up my gun, which had a silencer on it, and Rick nodded to show he understood as he did the same, a silencer on his pistol as well. For some reason that I could never figure out, everyone in the group refused to use a fucking silencer and it always pissed me off. Apparently, it got on Daryl's nerves, too, so we made sure the bag was full of silencers before we left Alexandria.

"How many?" Rick whispered. I held up a hand, spreading my fingers to show five. Rick nodded. "I'll take the ones on the left."

We leaned around a corner, taking aim, then fired on the Hydra soldiers before they could react. They dropped to the ground, and Rick and I moved forward, taking their guns. "Twenty-seven," Rick muttered, kneeling next to one of them. "With the guards out, this makes twenty-seven left."

"Oh, that's creepy," I said, kneeling next to one of the other men. "This dude looks almost exactly like you, Rick."

"Maybe if he had more of a tan, more of a beard, lighter hair," Rick said, staring at his Hydra clone. "I didn't know I had an evil twin."

We continued on, quietly taking out any Hydra members we saw. Once we reached the end of the base, we radioed to the others that we finished the sweep. By that point, we were down to about ten Hydra members left. By our estimate, anyway. "Alright, phase two," I said. "Find the armory, secure it. Radio when you have it."

Rick and I started back the way we came, and not even two minutes later Clint announced, "Armory secure, but I've got unfriendlies inbound."

"Rick, go," I ordered. "I'll find her. You help Clint."

Rick nodded once, taking off down one hall while I continued down the other. I ducked into a doorway as I saw a soldier running down the hall, then fired on him once he was past. "Nine," I said into the walkie. "We're down to nine."

I ran down the hall, looking in each room for the Executioner, but I knew she wouldn't be in this wing. I was in the recreational wing, while she would be closer to the armory. I took off, running for the wing that held the armory, as well as the place I was kept when I came to this facility. I slowed to a stop as I came past a room, the room where they used to wipe me. I stepped inside, trying to ignore the chair in the center of the room, as I looked around for anything that would tell me who she was. Beside the chair, on a stand, a single book sat. I made my way over, keeping my back to the chair as I looked down at the book. It was bound in black leather, a red star in the center of it. The colors were the opposite of the one Hydra kept for me. Red leather, with a black star. I picked up the book, flipping through it. Handwritten notes were kept in Russian, and in the front, a list of words. _Longing, rusted._ I snapped the book shut as I read the first two, backpedalling out of the room as I remembered the rest of the list. I kept the book in my hand, though, believing it might have a way to reverse the brainwashing Hydra put her through. I put my hands on my knees, leaning back against the wall, as I tried to catch my breath. I closed my eyes, then slowly opened them when I realize there was someone in the hall with me. I straightened, turning to face the figure standing to my left.

 _It's her. The Executioner._

The thought ran through my mind as I took in her appearance, the black suit combined with the muzzle-like mask. While her left arm was covered by a sleeve, the right sleeve was cut off, showing off a strong as hell metal arm. Almost everything about her was identical to me, except she was younger, a girl, and her right arm was metal instead of her left. Even the red star was the same, the one on her shoulder. As I studied her, stepping closer, I found that I knew her eyes. They were familiar, but I couldn't place them.

I stopped when we were about two feet apart, both of us watching the other closely. She stood still, in silence, as I circled her, looking for anything that would tell me who she is, for any weapons. At the small of her back, three throwing knives were strapped to her uniform. On her right hip, a hunting knife. A Beretta was strapped to her left thigh. Above that, a belt with pockets for ammunition. When she finally spoke, it was in Russian. " _See anything you like?"_

I didn't answer, stopping on her left side. I raised my hand, moving to take off her mask. Before I could reach it, however, a hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping the movement of my metal arm with inhuman strength. My eyes flicked down to my wrist, seeing she used her metal arm to stop mine. Not releasing her grip on my wrist, her eyes constantly watching my face, she pulled me directly in front of her, releasing me only to kick me back. I fell to the ground, then got to my feet, watching her. I stepped forward, ready to fight if I had to, and didn't stop when I saw she drew a knife on me.

The Executioner swung first, and I threw up a hand, blocking the knife. I played on defense, dodging and blocking her swipes with the knife. "You can't use that shit on me," I told her, looking into her eyes. "I know all your tricks."

"You don't know me," she replied, her English muffled by the muzzle. I jumped back as she shifted, then kicked her to the ground. She was back up in seconds, starting forward. As she swung again, I took advantage of her twisted form, attacking from behind. I threw a punch that stunned her, then threw her over my shoulder, my hand brushing her mask as I did so. She got to her feet, her back turned on me, as I scrambled to grab the gun I dropped when she first attacked. I straightened, watching as she turned, and nearly dropped my gun in shock.

" _Clary?"_

" _Who the hell is Clary?"_

My heart stopped at that, if it didn't when her mask came off. She didn't know who she was. Her mind had been wiped, she'd become Hydra's puppet. The same way I was for seventy years. "Please, Clary," I pleaded. "I don't want to fight you. So come with me."

"I don't know you. You don't know me."

"You know me. It's me. It's Bucky."

"I don't know you," Clary repeated.

"You know me."

"No, I don't!" Clary yelled, throwing a punch.

I dodged it, turning to face her. "Clary. You've known me for a year, but it may as well have been your whole life."

"No!"

She threw another punch. It landed, and I stumbled. "Your name is Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon."

"Shut up!"

I fell as she threw another punch, this one with her metal arm. I got to my feet, watching her. I dropped my gun, just like Steve dropped his shield back on the helicarrier. "I'm not gonna fight you, Clary. You're my friend." I leaned down, looking her in her grey-blue eyes. The eyes I find myself wondering how I could have forgotten. "You're my best girl."

"I don't know you!" Clary shouted, backing away. "Just get out!"

As gunfire hit the wall next to her, I tackled her to the ground, shielding her body with mine. I scrambled off of her, grabbing my gun and firing up at the Hydra soldier from my spot on the ground. He fell, and so did the two others behind him. _Six._ I got to my feet, looking around for Clary and seeing her backed into a corner, trying to get as far away as possible. I knelt in front of her, keeping my back to the wall and watching the hall out of the corner of my eye. I held out a hand, waiting for her to take it. When she stood next to me, she always held my left hand. I'd try to pull away, afraid of hurting her, but she held on, determined to show me that she trusted me, that I wasn't going to hurt anyone. And now, as I extended the same hand I was always afraid to let her hold, I hoped that she'd remember it. "Take my hand, Clary," I said. "And we'll go."

"You… you're like me," Clary whispered, staring down at the hand.

"I'm Bucky. You know me, Clary. And I'm here to save you. So, c'mon. Take my hand. I'll get you out. I promise."

After a long moment, Clary hesitantly placed her right hand in my left, both hands metal, and I knew that despite her being brainwashed, forced to forget us all, we had a bond stronger than ever before. We were one in the same. I pulled her close to me, hugging her to my chest, as I wrapped my other arm around her, terrified that if I let go, she'd be gone again. And this time, it'd be forever. "Bucky," Clary gasped. "I can't... breathe."

"Oh, god, shit," I said, loosening my hold. "I'm so sorry."

I removed one arm, placing it under her knees as I lifted her, choosing to carry her out. "Bucky!" I heard Rick shout behind me. "I know who it is!"

"Yeah," I said, turning to face him. "She's alive."

Rick skidded to a halt when he saw Clary in my arms, and he placed her crossbow on his shoulder before running to meet us. "Clary," he said softly, looking like he wanted to get closer but was unsure if he should. "Oh, my god. It really is you."

Clary slid out of my arms, standing to attention. "Sokolski? I saw your body."

"Clary?" Rick questioned, looking up at me. I shook my head, silently telling him that she didn't know who anyone was. He looked back down at her. "I'm Rick Grimes. I'm a friend."

I closed my eyes, sighing, as it dawned on me. "That's how they did it," I said. "That's how they brainwashed her, got her to submit. Oh, it's what they did to me. When Pierce was young, he looked like Steve. The guy we saw that looked like you, I remember him now. He was here when I was. His name was Sokolski. He was her main handler, the guy in charge of her. They chose the guy that looked like you because they knew she took orders from you and would take them from him. They couldn't fully erase you, so they used it to their advantage." I looked down at Clary, placing a hand on her back, then gestured for Rick to lead the way. "We gotta get out of here. Rendezvous with the others at back at the RV."

Rick nodded once, repeating the orders into his walkie, and Clary and I followed him out of the compound. We were the first to the RV, Clint arriving a few moments later. He took one look at Clary before running to her, kneeling in front of her. "Oh my god," he said, taking her head in his hands as he looked at her. "Is it really you?"

Clary kicked him back, scrambling to her feet as she drew a knife. "What the hell, Clary?" Clint asked, getting to his feet.

"Hydra said he was evil," Clary replied, then glanced up at me. "But they also said you were evil." She lowered her knife, looking down. "I don't know who or what to believe anymore."

"That's Clint Barton," Rick said. "He's Hawkeye. He's one of the good guys."

"Clary?" Clint questioned. "Hey, Clary. I'm not going to hurt you." He extended a hand for her to shake. "You don't remember me, but that's okay. I'm Clint. I'm a friend."

Clary slowly placed her left hand in his, shaking it. "They said I'm Clary, but I'm guessin' you already knew that."

"Yeah, I did," he replied with a bit of a smile. "We've got two more of ours still in there. We'll leave as soon as they get back."

Clary stepped back, staying by my side as we waited for Jesus and Daryl to arrive. The latter's shout tore through the air as he saw Clary, running to meet her. I looked down at Clary as she flinched, backing into me. That was the only time I ever saw her flinch away from Daryl, from the brother that was everything to her. "No," Clary whispered. "No, no, please, no."

As Daryl slowed to a stop, I put an arm around Clary, angling myself to separate the two. Daryl's eyes were wide at the sight of his sister, and he tried to push around me. I put up a hand, holding him back, as I told him, "Daryl, trust me right now, back up. She did something before, remembered you or recognized you or something, and they wiped her. They taught her that if she saw you, recognized you, pain would come. And as much as I hate to say it, she is _terrified_ of you right now. You have to give her time and you have to give her space. So, please, Daryl, just back up. Don't frighten your sister further."

Daryl looked dejected, absolutely heartbroken that his sister reacted the way she did, after thinking she was dead for three months. "Let's get the hell outta here," Daryl said, pushing around us and into the RV.

"Jesus still isn't back!" Clint called after him, but Daryl ignored him. Clint sighed, following the hunter into the RV, leaving Rick and I outside with Clary. When Rick saw Jesus exiting the compound, he quickly waved him over, Jesus jogging the rest of the way to meet us.

"So, this is the infamous Executioner," Jesus said, looking down at her. His eyebrows creased as he studied her a bit more, whispering, "My god, you're so young." Clary didn't speak, watching every move he made. "I'm Paul Rovia, but my friends used to call me Jesus. Your pick."

"I… I know you," Clary said after a long minute. "I saved you."

"Yeah, you did," Jesus said softly, kneeling to look up at her. "What's your name?"

"Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon. But these people call me Clary. Your pick."

Jesus smirked. "Well, then, Miss Dixon, why don't you come with us?" Clary glanced towards the compound, as if she was afraid a Hydra soldier would walk out, ordering her back. To be honest, I was pretty damn terrified of the same thing. Jesus, noticing the look, took one of her hands in his. "Hey, we won't let the touch you. I _swear,_ we won't let them come for you. _I_ won't."

Clary looked away, not meeting his eyes, as he stood. I opened the door, holding it open for them as Jesus gently urged Clary through. I slid into a seat at the table, Jesus and Clint sitting opposite of me. Clary took the open seat next to Daryl, looking somewhat uncomfortable as she sat next to him. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?" Daryl offered as Rick pulled away from the compound, speeding up as we hit the road. "We've got a long ride home. There's a bed in the back."

Clary shook her head, causing Daryl to frown. "Clary, get some sleep, okay?"

Jesus climbed out of his seat, kneeling in front of Clary. "Hey, we're gonna be making camp for the night here in a little bit," he told her. "It's too dangerous to travel at night. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

Clary turned to me, and in Russian, I told her, "Go, get some sleep. We won't let Hydra find you."

"Thank you," she replied in the same language, then got to her feet, climbing around Jesus as she headed for the bed in the back of the RV. Daryl looked at me, waiting until she was gone to ask, "What'd you say?"

"I told her we wouldn't let Hydra find her," I answered, looking away from the back of the RV to him. "She trusts me, 'cause I promised her I'd get her out." I glanced back towards Clary. "Someone should stay with her."

"I'll go," Jesus volunteered, causing Daryl to frown at the thought of the man from Hilltop watching over his sister. "I want to get to know her."

"In the meantime," Clint said, stretching out in the seat now that Jesus left. "I'm gonna get some sleep. You'd be wise to do the same."

"I'll wait until we stop," I said.

"Suit yourself," Clint replied with a shrug. He closed his eyes, falling asleep with a light snore almost immediately. About five minutes later, Rick pulled to a stop, and along with Daryl and I, he got out to clear the surrounding area of any walkers. I walked beside Daryl as we made our sweep, asking, "You okay?"

"My baby sister's back from the dead," he replied, glancing up at me. "But she's terrified of me. It's fuckin' great."

"Give her some time," I recommended. "After DC, I ran from _Steve._ Clary's not Clary anymore. That's her, but she doesn't know that it's her."

"Is the old Clary gone?" Daryl asked. "The one that we knew?"

"I don't know. Clary's disoriented right now. She doesn't remember who she is. The only thing she knows is the Executioner, and she's having all of this new information thrust upon her. She's gonna be scared, overwhelmed. Clary's gonna need some time and maybe some distance. She doesn't remember you, Daryl. And I'm so sorry for that. I'm so sorry for all that they've done to her. You have to give her time to trust you again."

"Okay," Daryl muttered.

"Okay? Can you do that? I understand wanting to be right beside her, Daryl, I really do. But she needs to learn that you're not going to hurt her. They wiped her because she recognized you. That's one of the most painful things, if not _the_ most painful thing, I've ever felt in my ninety-some years."

"And it was because of me," Daryl whispered. "I wouldn't blame her if she never trusted me again."

"She will," I assured him. "Believe me, Daryl, she'll trust you again. One day."

* * *

 **Daryl**

In the back of the RV, there's two twin beds, one on each side of the vehicle. I sat on one, watching Clary as she slept on the other, her head in Jesus's lap. She refused to sleep until he sat with her, so he did just that, leaning against the wall as she slept. He rested a hand on her stomach, which she latched onto like a lifeline, her left hand curled tightly around it. Jesus looked up at me as he saw I was watching him, and asked, "Still don't trust me?"

"I don't know you," I replied.

"Trust that I wouldn't hurt your sister. Even though it feels like she's currently breaking my hand." I cracked a bit of a grin at that, knowing how tightly Clary could hold on. And that was before she was enhanced with the same supersoldier serum as Steve and Bucky, according to the Winter Soldier. "Holy me, that hurts."

"Did you just say 'holy me?'"

"Yeah, instead of 'holy Jesus.' Get it?"

"I hope she breaks your hand. Just for that."

"Must be a Dixon thing. It's gotta be. I mean, you broke Andy's hand."

"In my defense, he _was_ trying to kill Abraham."

Jesus paused for a second, then nodded, unable to deny it. We looked down at Clary as she mumbled something in her sleep. It took both of us a moment to realize it wasn't English, but I figured out it was Russian first, remembering hearing Bucky say the same words. "I don't speak Russian," I said, glancing up at Jesus. "You?"

He shook his head, then wiggled his hand free of Clary's, gently trying to wake her. "Clary?" he said softly. "Clary, wake up."

I looked down as I saw Clary raising her metal arm, moving to fight back against Jesus. I made my move before she could, doing my best to pin the arm down, even though she could tear a door off of its hinges with it. In other words, it was _very_ strong, and I was outmatched. "Clary, c'mon," I growled in her ear. "Wake the fuck up!"

She woke at the sound of my voice, then shoved me off of her, and I landed on the floor with a thump. I took a moment to catch my breath, knowing that there'd be a bruise on my chest from her later. It woke Clint and Bucky, the latter, his voice heavy with sleep, asking, "What was that?"

"I think Daryl fell off the bed," Clint answered with a yawn. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Good idea," Bucky commented, and the two were asleep again within seconds. I pushed myself up, only to find Clary backed against a wall, looking like she wanted to run. She asked a question in Russian, causing Jesus and I to look at each other. I said, "Clary, sweetheart, we don't speak Russian. Are you alright?"

"Where am I?" Clary questioned.

"Clary, it's alright," Jesus told her. "Talk to us. Are you alright?"

"Jesus?" Clary asked, recognizing him. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I didn't hurt either of you, did I?"

"Well, you kinda shoved Daryl onto the floor," Jesus answered, scratching the back of his head. "It looked like it hurt."

"There's gonna be a bruise later, but it'll fade," I assured her. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry," Clary whispered, looking down. "I swear, I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Don't make me forget. I don't want to forget again."

"Clary, we won't make you forget," I told her, moving forward, but she flinched back. Bucky's words echoed in my mind: _Give her space, Daryl._ I stepped back, then shared a look with Jesus. "She trusts you. Will you?"

"Of course," he replied. Jesus scooted a bit closer to her, and she didn't back away from him. "Can I…" He gestured to her hand with his, and Clary nodded after she pulled her metal arm away, a mirror image of what I've seen Bucky do more than once. Jesus took her hand in his, then reached for her other hand. She withdrew it, looking nervous. "It's alright, Clary. You can't let it control you. You're not going to hurt anyone. I trust you." Slowly, she placed her metal hand in his. "Oh, that's cold. Wow, okay."

I asked, "Are you scared, Cheyenne?"

"No," Clary denied.

"Really? Because someone once told me that the people that say they aren't scared, they're lying. And the ones that really, truly aren't scared, those people are the fools. Begs the question, doesn't it? What each of us are? The honest, the liar, or the fool?" Clary looked down, and I continued, "But that's okay. It's okay to be scared. In fact, sometimes it's better to be scared than not. Because fear makes you strong. It keeps you alive."

"So, Clary," Jesus said. "Are you scared?"

"Very," she admitted. "'Cause I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been. And…" Clary looked down at her hands. "And I don't want to go back. But I can't go forward, either. Not with all this programming in my head. I may not be with them, but they still control me. All it takes is the right words and I won't be me anymore."

Jesus gently tugged Clary towards him, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on top of her head. Clary was hesitant at first, then relaxed against him, closing her eyes as she rested her head against his chest. Jesus removed one arm from around her, using his free hand to pull open the blinds on the window. "I'm gonna tell you something, Clary," he said softly. "Something my mom told me when I was little. She used to say that if I was ever scared, just look up at the sky. 'No matter if it's night or day, just look up, and it'll be okay.' That's what she always told me. Just wait for the sun to go down, for it to come up, whatever, and you'll make it through it." Jesus released Clary, taking one of her hands in his, then gestured out the window. "Look out at the sky. It's gonna be okay. Just look up, doll."

"Don't let Bucky hear you call her that," I warned him. "He'll murder anyone that calls his best girl 'doll.'"

Jesus glanced down at Clary. "You'll protect me, won't you, poppet?"

"I've done it before," Clary answered. "I'll do it anytime."

"It's late, and I'm tired," Jesus said. "Let's go back to sleep." Jesus moved to sit back against the wall again, but Clary crawled in his lap before he could move, leaning back against him. "Alright, that works, too."

I got up, sitting on the bed opposite of them. I tried not to glare at Jesus too harshly. It wasn't that I didn't trust him, I really do trust him because of how he's willing to do whatever needs to be done for Clary. It's more of the fact that I'm jealous that she trusts him more than me, her own brother, that's raised her and taken care of her all sixteen years. But she looks at me like I'm someone that would rather hurt her then look at her when it's not even close to that. I watched as Jesus rested his head on Clary's shoulder, drifting off to sleep. Clary shifted, trying not to let him fall as he slumped against her. "Clary," I said, and she looked up. "Can I ask you something? And you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

She didn't reply, so I didn't ask. A few moments later, Clary said, "I'm still waiting for your question."

"What Bucky said," I started. "About you recognizing me or remembering me… When? For the past three months, I thought you were dead."

"The raid," she answered after a minute. "The Saviors' compound. After I went in, me and… my handlers stayed for the next day. We had to see if there was anyone coming back from runs, you know. Anyone I might've missed 'cause they weren't there. We saw your group go in. So we waited to see who you guys were. The guy on the motorcycle, I thought I saw someone, but I didn't go after 'em 'cause I thought I was imagining it. So we're watching you guys, in the daytime now. It was your vest I saw, Bucky's arm. Somethin' 'bout 'em, I remembered. We were back at HQ, I made the mistake of askin' who y'all were. 'The one with the vest, the angel wings. I know it. And the one like me, with the metal arm. I knew him. I knew them. Who were they?' I guess I really shouldn't've said that, 'cause then they wiped me."

"Clary," I started after a few minutes. "Do you know who I am?" She shook her head. "I'm your brother. We've been together through everything. I tried to protect you from it all, whatever we faced. Before and after. You mean everythin' to me. When I thought you were dead… I couldn't take it, Clary. Every day, I wished we could switch places. I wished you were alive and safe in Alexandria, and I was dead. And now, I wish it more than ever. That you were safe in Alexandria, and I took the torture, everything that happened to you, in Hydra. And I'd do it without a single second of hesitation, too, if it meant savin' you."

Clary slipped out of Jesus's lap, lying him on the bed without waking him, before she moved to sit next to me. "If you are my brother, then can you tell me how I got these scars? The ones on my back?"

"They came before," I told her. "All of 'em, except for three." I raised my hand, and she let me run my fingers over her back, showing her where the three I was talking about were. Without even seeing them, I remembered where each of her scars were. "They came after, from this man called the Governor. And you have this little circle scar, on your stomach, that's on your back, too. That's from your own arrow. We fell down a cliff. You can figure how that one went." Clary let out a small, breathy chuckle. "And your leg, that's from a bullet that skimmed you. That was a few days after the cliff. All your other scars, those are from before the shit hit. They're, um, they're from our dad."

"Is he dead?" Clary asked, so quietly that I almost missed it.

"Yeah. The first day. He was torn apart by 'em. Our uncle, Jess, he shot him, but Jess was bit. He came after you, so I put him down."

Clary fell into a silence, staring intently out the window that remained open. About ten minutes passed before I spoke again, saying, "You know, I'm kinda surprised you let me touch you."

Clary glanced up at me. "Why? Would I normally not?"

"It depends on who. A lot of people, even the ones that have been with us since the beginning or near it, you don't let them touch you. With me, it was like you'd just _relax_ as soon as I was near you. Others, you tense up. I mean, the only other people you don't really tense up near are Bucky, Glenn, and Carl. Pietro, Michonne, Clint, and Carol, you trust them, too. Everyone else, you don't really let 'em near." Clary gestured over to Rick at the front of the RV, silently asking about him. "No. He betrayed your trust a while back, and you've never forgiven him. He questioned your loyalty."

"Carol, the others you mentioned. Who are they?"

"Well, Carl, that's Rick's son, your boyfriend. Then, Glenn, you've always said he was like your brother. And Carol… she takes care of you, and you've had a hard time accepting it 'cause you've always blamed yourself for Sophia's death, that's Carol's daughter. Michonne came a little under a year into it, right at the time of Woodbury. Pietro, he's an Avenger. For a while there, he blamed himself for losing you. He thought he should've been there."

Clary was silent for a few moments. "The white handled katana."

"Yeah, that's Michonne's sword. What about it?"

Clary closed her eyes, then moaned, putting her head in her hands. "The king. The chess piece."

I shook my head. "I don't know about that one."

Clary sighed, opening her eyes to look up at me. "Am I imagining things?"

"I've got an idea," I told her. "If you think of something, whatever, you ask me or one of us about it. We'll tell you if that's real or not, if it happened or didn't."

Clary nodded. "I think I like that. Um, can I ask why I never let people touch me?"

"The way we grew up," I answered. "You didn't trust anyone. It wasn't a thing with them, it was just your personality. Why do you ask?"

"When I was with them, with Hydra, I had to… comply, with everything they said. If they told me to do something, I didn't have any other choice. If they wanted to do something to me, I couldn't fight back."

"What types of things did they do?" I growled, the thought of them touching her making me want to go back and kill every one of them again.

Clary flinched, like she wanted to shrink back, but stayed where she was. "If one of them wanted to beat the shit out of me, I couldn't fight back," she whispered, glancing down. "I didn't mean anything else."

"Clary, did any of them ever try to…"

"To what? Rape me?" I paused, not meeting her eyes. "Yeah, they tried, okay? The men that I killed to save Jesus, they got close. A lot closer than I'd like. They only didn't 'cause walkers showed up, and then when we were on that road, I managed to sneak away. I was gonna run, but then I watched 'em drag Jesus out and put him on his knees. I didn't know what they were gonna do, if they were gonna kill him or worse, so I stepped in, and I killed them. And when I got back to Hydra, I told 'em they tried to rape me so I killed 'em. I wasn't lyin', not really. They started to wipe me, but the guy that ordered it, he buckled. Told me he had a daughter, before all this, and she killed herself because some asshole raped her. That was how I knew for sure, if I didn't before, that I was their puppet, and I couldn't do jack shit about it."

"I'm sorry, Clary. I am."

Clary pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them as she went back to staring out the window. "There were two women in a forest," she said after some time. "I think I saved them."

"You did," I answered. "That was Carol and Maggie."

"Carol's the one with the short hair?"

I nodded, and Clary went back into her silence. "You know, I think that's how Bucky figured it out" I said. "Or got an idea, at least."

"Figured what out?" Clary questioned, glancing up at me.

"That it was you. Er, that you were the Executioner. When Maggie said 'Vatican cameos,' you froze in the forest."

"I thought it sounded familiar."

"It's a code we use. Means you're supposed to hit the deck, get out of the line of fire. You'd have to be one of us to know what it means. That's why Bucky was so desperate to save you. He knew you were one of us, and we don't leave each other behind."

* * *

 **Fun fact: When I was writing this chapter, I looked up Andrew Lincoln look alikes because there was a tumblr post about how a young Robert Redford looks like Steve Rogers in the 1940's and how they used it against Bucky. I found this guy named Ryan Bunker that looks like Andrew (just google "Ryan Bunker Andrew Lincoln" and it's the first picture).**


	11. Homecoming

**Chapter 10: Homecoming**

 **Clary**

"This isn't Alexandria, is it?" I questioned as we drove up to a walled community, one that I've been at before. No, I haven't been inside it. I was sent to scout it about three weeks back by Hydra, as they wanted to make sure it was a community we wanted to do business with. And then Hydra had me watching them again, in the days after we made the deal but before I took out the compound. _No, they. It's not 'we' anymore. I'm not part of it anymore._

"No, this is the Hilltop," Clint answered as the gate was pulled open, and Rick drove through. "Jesus lives here."

I turned my attention to the bearded man, asking, "You mean you don't live with them?"

"I've only known them for about a week," Jesus replied, leading the way out of the RV. I waited for Bucky, then followed him out, and up into the mansion in the middle of the community. "Most of the time, I live here. If I'm not out searching for other communities."

"You should be more careful when you're out there," I advised him.

"Yeah, you're not going to be there to save my ass every time," Jesus said, shooting me a grin.

"That's not what I meant. There's groups out there, ones that aren't as friendly as Alexandria. The wrong people get on your tail, follow you back… These people look like they couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag. And your walls, they're made of wood. It wouldn't take much to burn them to the ground."

"We weren't lucky like your people," Jesus replied. "We didn't have the metal to make walls like that." He stopped as we climbed the front steps of the mansion, opening the door for us. "Welcome to the Barrington House, Clary."

I followed the others inside, and Jesus closed the door behind us. He led us into a study, where a balding man sat on a couch. "Oh, Jesus, you're back," he said. "And—oh my."

He cut himself off as his gaze drifted to Bucky and I, or me, more specifically. "Gregory," Jesus said, standing between the two of us. "This is Clary Dixon, Daryl's little sister. You know her as the Executioner." Jesus leaned down, lowering his voice where he thought that I couldn't hear, but I still could. "I'd choose your words carefully, Gregory. She's a bit… unpredictable. And don't think that she won't hesitate to off someone." Jesus straightened, then stepped back to me and gestured to Gregory. "Clary, this is Gregory. He's in charge of this place."

"He's already chosen his words," I said, staring straight at Gregory. "You, you'd better believe me when I say this. I remember every word you said to me and about me. A murderer, a weapon. 'Something that I can use,' I believe was your exact phrase. So I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to remember every word of it, you son of a bitch. You ready? Here goes. Pay attention." I stepped around Jesus, leaning down and wrapping my hand around Gregory's neck. He let out a gasp as my metal fingers closed around his neck, but I didn't squeeze tight enough to kill him. "You stay the fuck away from me, you understand? I am not your soldier. I'm not your weapon. I'm not a toy." I released him, taking the nearly empty bottle of whiskey off of the coffee table in front of him. "You stay the fuck away from me, or I _will kill you_. _Otvali!_ " I swallowed the last bit of whiskey, then hurled the bottle at Gregory. He flinched as it shattered against the wall behind his head. "Or should I say, piss off!"

With that, I turned and walked out of the office, heading for the door. A duo of two men were coming in just as I was leaving, and leapt aside, making room for me to pass. I was down the steps and heading for the RV when I heard someone running after me, and I turned to throw a punch just as they arrived. Bucky leant backwards, then raised his left hand, stopping the punch. "What the hell are you doing?" Bucky snapped.

"Makin' damn sure I don't ever go back there again," I replied, pulling my hand free. I turned and started to walk away, but Bucky grabbed my arm before I could go any further. I spun, kicking him back. The people of Hilltop around us sucked in their breath, and I heard someone shouting, "Get back! Stay out of their way!"

I left my guns in the RV, so I reached behind me, taking one of my knives. Bucky sighed, "Oh, dammit. We're gonna do this, aren't we? Well, shit. You're gonna kill someone if I don't."

Bucky cracked his neck, then started forward as I shifted on my feet, heading towards him. He threw up a hand to block me as I swung my knife, then kicked me back while wrenching the knife from my hand. He threw it off to the side, causing a few people to jump back even further. We met in a headlock, arms thrown up to keep the other off while pushing against them. Bucky brought his knee up into my stomach, which I returned with an uppercut to his. I dodged a punch he threw, then used my metal arm to throw him off to the side. I continued after him, and he didn't hold back anymore, if he was before. Bucky threw a punch that landed, and I returned with one of my own, but he caught my fist again. "Didn't I tell you I knew your tricks?" he questioned.

He headbutted me twice, then, taking advantage of me being stunned, he used his left arm to throw me. I rolled as I landed, stirring up dirt as I stopped. "Alright," I growled, getting to my feet. " _Now_ I'm pissed."

I noticed Rick barely five feet from me, looking slightly terrified at the fight before him. I moved faster than him, grabbing his Colt Python before he could react. I aimed it at Bucky, distracting him by firing two shots that I knew he would block with his metal arm. I immediately fired a third shot around it, and he cried out as a bullet skimmed his side. "You know my tricks?" I questioned. "I know all of yours, too! I _am_ you! I'm younger, I'm faster, I'm deadlier. I'm _better_ than you."

From beside me, an arrow was fired. As it hit the gun, a flash went off; and I dropped the gun in surprise, covering my eyes. Clint moved to join the fight, then knowing that he was outmatched, spun and kicked me backwards. The crowd scattered as I landed on my back, then noticed my knife less than five feet away. I turned onto my stomach, crawling for it, but Bucky caught up to me just as I reached it. His hand closed around mine as my hand closed around the knife, and he lifted me up, one hand around my throat. I swiped at him with the knife, even though I missed, knowing I wouldn't be able to damage his metal arm as it held me up. Bucky threw me over his shoulder, kneeling behind me now. He wrapped one arm around mine, his hand coming to rest behind my shoulder, then held me down with his other arm. "Drop it!" he barked, and I tried to hit him, targeting the gunshot wound, but he was out of my reach. "Drop it! Now, Clary! I don't want to hurt you!"

I still didn't drop it, even though it felt like he was about to dislocate my shoulder. He lifted me suddenly, then fell back, landing on his back with me on top of him. Bucky wrapped one leg around the arm that held the knife, holding it down so I couldn't hurt him. He put his arms around my neck in a choke hold, and I raised my metal arm, trying to pry his hands off. I got one of them, pulling it away, but he wrapped his other leg around my metal arm, holding them both down as he returned his other arm to my neck. I did what I could to fight back, but I couldn't get any traction in the loose dirt to move. "I'm sorry," Bucky was whispering as I struggled to breathe. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

I felt myself starting to black out, then got an idea, choosing to play possum. I let myself go limp before I actually passed out, closing my eyes as I dropped the knife. Bucky immediately released me, then took my knife. He gently lifted me up, taking my other knives and my ammunition belt. "I'm so sorry," Bucky said softly, holding me close to his chest. "I'm so sorry." His voice broke as it dropped to a whisper, so quiet I could barely hear it. "I swore I'd protect you. I swore I'd never hurt you. I can't even do that right." Bucky choked back a sob, begging, "Please, let me know you're still alive. Please, Clary. Anything."

I caved, unable to go on fighting him anymore after hearing that. My god, the poor man just needed a hug. I reached up, wrapping my arm around his neck as I leaned into him, whispering, "James..."

"Oh my god, Clary," he replied, squeezing me against him, his arms wrapped tightly around me. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I just couldn't let you hurt anybody."

"What the hell even happened?" I questioned. "I… I remember it, but it was like I wasn't there."

"All that programming Hydra put in there, it's still there," Bucky answered. "Oh, Clary, it's still there. I'm so sorry for all they did to you. You were a part of things I never wanted you to see, to even know about."

"I didn't hurt anyone, did I?" I asked as my fingers brushed his side. A spot that was warm, wet, and sticky. "Oh my god, Buck."

I pulled away from him, getting to my feet and backing away. I shot him because I couldn't control this darkness inside of me, and if I wasn't careful, I'd do more than just graze someone with a bullet. I turned on my heel, then ran off, around the back of the Barrington House. I was alone back there, but I still snuck in through the backdoor. I silently climbed the stairs, heading to the attic. I closed the door behind me, sinking to the floor. I put my head in my hands, sighing deeply as I dreaded facing the others again. _They shouldn't have done it. They shouldn't have saved me. I'm not worth it._

I looked up as the door opened, Jesus calling, "Clary? Are you in here?"

"Get out," I snapped, getting to my feet.

"Hey, you okay?" he questioned, placing a hand on my arm. I jerked away, not trusting myself enough to control both my arm and the Executioner lurking inside, waiting to strike.

"I'm not okay," I said. "Fuck, man, I shot Bucky."

"You can't let the Executioner take control of you, Clary. You're stronger than it. But you can't live in fear of it. You're gonna hurt people, Clary. We all do, and we all will. It's human nature. It's just what we do. You can't let Hyde control the Jekyll in you."

"Jekyll couldn't control Hyde," I whispered, my voice shaking. "He was too strong. He couldn't hold it back. _I_ can't hold it back. She's so strong. It's taking everything I have."

"But you're holding her back," Jesus assured me, cupping my face in his hands. "You're doing it, Clary. You can take control over her."

I closed my eyes, pulling myself out of his grasp. "Jekyll… he only took control long enough to end it. That was the only way to beat Hyde. He made John… Oh, Jesus, be my John. Please. Do it, Paul. Set me free. Set us all free."

"Stop that, dammit!" Jesus cried. "You're not dying on us. This isn't _Jekyll and Hyde_ , okay? Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I've heard of the things that you've done, and not the bad things. No, I know about all the badass things you've done. Like that time you and Rick took on a damn herd of walkers out of rage. How you saved an entire town."

"I took out an entire town, too."

"You've saved your group more times than they can count. You're amazing, Clary, and you're not going to throw that away just because you've got a dark side. So come on, come with me." He held out a hand for me to take, and I hesitantly placed my hand in his. "We have a doctor. You should let him check you out. We don't know what all Hydra did while you were with them."

So I let him lead me, out of the mansion and to a trailer not too far from it. I hesitated when I saw Bucky sitting inside, wincing as the doctor bandaged the wound in his side. "So, she's Daryl's little sister?" the doctor was questioning, glancing at Bucky every now and then. "Didn't know he had one."

"We thought she died about three months back," Bucky told him. "She means a lot to all of us. After Glenn and Maggie told us they were expecting, he told me that if it was a girl, they were naming her after Clary. It became a rule, almost. You just didn't say her name, didn't mention her. Especially not around Daryl. That girl, she's everything to him."

"From what I've heard, she means a lot to you, too," Jesus said, announcing our presence. "Harlan, this is Clary. I'm assuming you've heard about her from Bucky. Would you mind looking her over, make sure Hydra didn't hurt her?"

I scoffed at that. "Didn't hurt me my ass. Believe me, they did."

"I want Harlan to make sure you're not physically hurt right now. That any injuries you had have healed."

Harlan gestured for me to take a seat on a bed, which I did. I kept my head down the entire time, avoiding Bucky's gaze, while Harlan gave me the once over. I glanced up at Bucky as he pulled his shirt back on, glancing down at the bloodstained portion of it. He looked up and caught me watching him, telling me, "You know, I'm kinda glad you shot me."

"What the hell does that mean?" I questioned.

"Well, you showed me my weaknesses. It's something I can work on to make sure it doesn't happen again. It's like Steve with his shield. All you have to do is shoot around it. That's what I did in DC."

"I'm sorry," I said, switching to Russian. "I… I can't seem to get the Executioner under control."

"It's okay, doll," he replied in English. "And it's gonna be okay."

"I wish I could believe you," I admitted, glancing down.

"I'll do everything that needs to be done," Bucky said. "I promise you. Whatever you need, I'll be there."

"You know, you're not alone," Rick said, appearing in the doorway. "There's a lot of people back in Alexandria that are willing to do just about anything for you. I think it's time we get you back there."

Bucky and I slid off the beds we were sitting on, following Rick and Jesus out of the doctor's trailer. The sun was high in the sky, probably just a little after noon. I could see Daryl and Clint standing by the RV, and I stopped to look at Jesus when he said, "I guess I'll see you guys some other time."

"You're not coming with us?" I questioned, while Rick and Bucky continued on.

He shook his head, holding out a hand for me to shake. "Stay safe, Clary."

I took his hand, then pulled him towards me, wrapping my other arm around him. "I don't want you to go," I whispered. "Please. Bucky probably hates me, and the others… I don't know them."

"Hey, hey, hey, don't think that for one second," Jesus said softly, leaning down to look in my eyes. "Don't think that. Bucky would never hate you. He loves you too much to. And the others, you don't remember them, but in time, you will." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "C'mon, I'll walk you down."

So I let him lead me down to the RV, the others saying a quick goodbye before climbing in the vehicle. Jesus turned to me as I opened the door, saying, "You remember what I told you?"

I glanced up at the sky, then down at him. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it will be okay."

* * *

 **Carl**

It was safe to say that no one was expecting the person that walked through the door to be the one behind the Executioner's mask.

They left on the spur of the moment, my dad only stopping to tell me that he'd be back in a day, and he told Michonne as he was leaving the community. Once we spread the word that they were going off on a rescue mission, we sat gathered in the living room at the house my dad and I shared with Michonne, Daryl, Bucky, and Steve. We all turned as a door opened, but were slightly disappointed when Steve walked through. "Sorry," he apologized, knowing we were waiting for them to return. "But I did see the gate opening. They should be here soon."

"Did you see if she was with them?" Pietro questioned.

"Couldn't tell. Like I said, I saw the gate opening. I didn't stick around to see them come in."

A few minutes later, we could hear people walking down the street, Bucky conversing with someone in Russian. "She's with them," Natasha said. "He said ' _Palach.'_ It means 'Executioner.'"

We turned as the door opened, getting to our feet, and my dad was the first person to come through. He took a deep breath, looking around at us. "You're going to have a hard time believing this," he said as Clint and Daryl walked in behind him. "But, um… this Executioner, she's…" He sighed. "I don't know how to explain it. I can't even begin to. But, um, you know her."

"It couldn't be someone we know," Glenn argued, shaking his head. "Who the hell's the Executioner?"

"Hey, everyone," a familiar voice said, causing everyone in the room to freeze at the two words that proved Glenn wrong.

There it was, the voice that I thought I'd never hear again. The voice that I last heard begging me to wake up, to open my eyes. The person I begged to not be dead.

I heard her, and she heard me.

As we all got over the initial shock, the sudden realization that _holy shit Clary's alive_ , the room exploded with shouts. Cries of "how in the hell are you alive," "I never thought I'd see you again," and so on. I stood silent, staring at the girl that I finally accepted was never going to return. Her hair was a bit longer, growing as much as it would in three months. She wore a black bodysuit that looked to be made of the same material as Natasha's, and military boots, with a set of dog tags dangling around her neck. I froze when I saw her right arm. Metal, just like Bucky's. Same star and everything.

Beside me, Glenn was in tears, a sobbing mess at the girl he loved like a little sister. I started to take a step forward, then stopped, dropping to my knees. I felt a rush of wind, and Pietro was suddenly beside Clary. She jumped in surprise, and he took her face in his hands, rambling, "Oh my god, is it really you? You're here! Oh my god! Clary!" He kissed her, then immediately pulled back. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Clary. I'm sorry, Carl. You're here!" Pietro wrapped her in a hug, refusing to let go of her. He rambled on Romanian for about thirty seconds before he realized that he wasn't speaking English. "I'm so sorry, Clary. I wasn't there."

"Where the hell were you?" I questioned, shaking as Michonne pulled me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Clary, where were you?"

"Hydra had her," Bucky said, and I saw him standing in the doorway behind her. "She's not your Clary anymore."

"They took her brain and played," Clint added. "Pulled her out and stuffed something else back in."

"I'm not the person you all know," Clary said. "I don't remember any of you." She glanced up at Pietro, who still had his arms around her. "Hell, I don't even know who you are but what I do know is that you _are_ a damn good kisser." Pietro chuckled, loosening his hold on her a bit. "Hydra took out the person you knew and put in the person I am now. The one they call the Executioner."

Behind me, Maggie let out a sob, pushing around me to hug Clary. Pietro stepped back as he saw Maggie approaching, and Clary mirrored his movement, but she backed up until she reached Bucky. "Maggie, you might want to hold off on that," Bucky recommended, placing a hand on Clary's back to keep her from backing out the door. "It's gonna take a while before she remembers any of you."

Bucky tugged her with him towards the living room, where we were all gathered. "It's alright, Clary," Bucky told her, seeing as she was hesitant to follow. "No one here would ever dream of hurting you. We're family."

I pulled away from Michonne, extending a hand for Clary to take. I moved the same way I did when I first met her—slowly, so I wouldn't scare her away. She was hesitant, then placed her hand in mine, staring down at the metal hand in mine. I raised an arm to wrap around her, but hesitated, asking, "Is it okay if I…"

She nodded once, and I pulled her against me, just holding her. Not tightly, the way Pietro did, but a gentle embrace, like you would hold a dance partner. I suddenly remembered the only Russian phrase I knew, which I heard Bucky say to Steve time after time, and I only learned what he was saying when I asked Natasha. I whispered, " _YA lyublyu tebya."_

Clary didn't reply, backing away from me until she reached Bucky. "I don't know these people," she said. "Bucky."

"It's alright," he assured her.

Natasha said something in Russian, and even though I didn't know what she said, I could tell she was pissed. Clary spun away from Bucky, taking his knife and holding it out to defend herself. "I'm not going back there," Clary snapped.

"Clary, Clary, Clary," Bucky rushed. "It's alright, it's alright. Hey, listen. It's okay. Nat's not Hydra. She's an Avenger, like you."

"I don't know any of these people," Clary said, not turning to face him. "I told you that. _Vytashchi menya otsyuda. Bud'te dobry_."

"Of course," he replied. "Just put the knife down. C'mon, give it back."

It was obvious she didn't want to, keeping an eye on Nat at all times, but she gave the knife back to Bucky. He put it back in his belt, then placed a hand on Clary's back, leading her towards the stairs. He leaned down when she tugged on his sleeve, nodding along as she whispered something in his ear. Bucky picked her up, then glanced back at Daryl, Clint, and my dad. "Will you tell them?"

The three nodded, and Bucky carried Clary upstairs. "Dad," I started. "What happened to her?"

"The same thing they did to Bucky," Steve said, breaking the silence that followed my question. He wasn't even there, but he didn't have to be. He's seen it before. "They took her memories, put in what information they wanted. Made her into a weapon."

"She's a new person," Rick said. "And I don't know if that's good or bad, but she doesn't know any of you." He looked from Daryl, to Glenn, and then to me. "Not matter how much you meant to her, she's forgotten you."

* * *

 **Bucky**

Clary rested her head against my chest as I carried her upstairs and into the spare bedroom. She slid down from my arms, looking around. "Is this my room?" she inquired.

"It is for now," I said, and Clary looked up at me, head tilted to the side. "The boy in the hat, Carl Grimes, was your boyfriend. You two slept in another room together. You don't remember him, do you?"

Clary shook her head slightly. "Should I?"

"He loves you. A lot. When they took you, he cried for two days. Didn't speak for a week."

Clary glanced down. "I hate that I don't know him. I don't want to see them hurting like that."

I smiled softly, then chuckled lightly. "That's my girl. That's who you were."

"Who was the blond? The one that wasn't speaking English."

"Pietro Maximoff. The girl he was beside is his twin, Wanda. Pietro, he takes care of you, even when you think you don't need it. He's saved your life a few times."

She knelt on the ground, untying her boots and slipping them off along with her socks, then started to unzip her uniform before she paused. "Wait here a minute," I said, then left the room.

"Bucky?" she called after me, and I returned a minute later with one of my shirts. My room was closer than the one she shared with Carl, and I wasn't sure if he kept any of her clothing after we thought she died.

"Here," I said, tossing her a Metallica shirt. "Try that."

"Thanks, Buck," she said, looking down at the shirt in her hands. "Metallica?"

"It's a band," I told her. "One you like. I've got some records. I think you'll recognize them. Oh, um." I turned my back so she could change. "Tell me when you're done."

Behind me, I heard Clary unzipping her suit, dropping it to the ground. A few moments later, she said, "Okay."

I turned back around, smiling softly as she looked at home in the Metallica shirt. "I grabbed these, too," I said, tossing her a pair of sweatpants. "But they're probably too big."

Clary held them up to her waist, and I let out a chuckle. "Buck, I don't think these are gonna fit."

I scratched the back of my head. "Yeah, I didn't think they would. I can get you a pair that'll fit, but I don't know if Carl kept any of your clothes."

"No, don't leave me," Clary said, dropping the pants and moving to take my hand. She stopped as soon as she started, stepping backwards. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've done that."

"It's alright," I assured her, but she shook her head.

"No, it's not. I'm sorry. I know I'm not allowed to ask for things like that. I shouldn't've said that."

I almost took her hand, almost pulled her to me and wrapped my arms around her, wanting to let her know that she was safe, but I didn't. I faltered, stepping away from her. Clary shifted on her feet, glancing towards the bed. "Hey, Clary," I said, and she looked up at me. "You don't have to ask permission to sit down."

She hesitantly sat on the edge of the bed, then flinched, waiting for the blow, when I raised my hand. I rested it on her shoulder, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Night, Cheyenne."

"Thank you, Bucky," Clary whispered. I gave a nod, turning to walk out the door. I stopped when she said, "Bucky?"

I turned back to her. "Yeah?"

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Nevermind, it's stupid. Forget I said anything."

I stepped closer, studying her as I neared. "Do you want me to stay?" Clary said nothing, looking away from me. I knelt in front of her, repeating my question. "Do you want me to stay? Clary, it's okay. If you need something, just ask. Should I stay?" She still didn't reply. "Clary, honey, you gotta tell me. Just say yes or no."

It was so quiet that for a second I think I imagined it, but when she wrapped her arms around my neck, I knew I had heard her right. I picked Clary up, holding her as I sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Clary was all but laying on top of me, her arms wrapped around me and her head on my chest. I rested my metal arm around her waist, using my right hand to run my fingers through her hair. It was something that used to calm her before she was taken, something that reminded her that not all touch had the intention of pain. It's why it worked for me. "I don't know anyone here," Clary murmured. "But they all know me. They all have these memories, and I can't remember a damn thing."

"But you remember me," I replied. "I mean, you recognized me. You said you knew who I was."

"Just your name and your face," Clary whispered, the hand that rested on my arm tightening around it. "And that you're the reason they made me into this. 'We lost our goddamn asset, so you're gonna replace him.' I was the new you."

I took a deep breath, not quite sure how to process everything she was telling me. Was she blaming me, or was it all just spilling out? As she continued, recounting some of the events she witnessed, took part in, I knew it was the latter. But that still didn't stop me from feeling guilty. I was free, but then Hydra went looking for someone else to make into their supersoldier, and Clary drew the short stick. "Clary," I said softly, interrupting her as she began to tell me about her single-handed take down of the Saviors compound. "You might not remember this, or even know it, but I love you, Clary. You're my best girl. Now, c'mon. Get some sleep, okay? You need it."

"I can't," she whispered, her voice wavering, showing her fright. "Every time I close my eyes, I'm back there. And when I open 'em again, I think they're gonna be here, waiting for me. I don't wanna go back, Bucky."

"Shh, it's alright, Clary," I whispered, dropping my hand from her hair to rub her back. "I won't let them near you. When we met, you made that promise to me. That if Hydra came back, you'd defend me till your last breath. And that's the same promise I'm making you. I will _never_ let them touch you again. Now, c'mon, doll, let's get some sleep."

Clary closed her eyes, but every time she started to drift off, she'd jerk awake. Eventually, I started humming, hoping that she'd recognize the song, which was one of her favorites, and hoping it'd lull her to sleep. "That song," Clary murmured after hearing me hum it for the third time. "It sounds familiar."

"'Every Rose Has Its Thorn,'" I told her. "It's one of your favorites."

By the sixth time, Clary was asleep, and I was all but there. As I drifted off, I tightened my hold around her waist, not ready to let her go.

* * *

Pietro was the one that remembered that Clary promised to watch _The Lion King_ with us when she returned from her run. He brought Wanda along with him, and the two carried snacks and drinks when they showed up at our door. Rick didn't know what to think when he walked into the house to find a quartet of ex-Hydra soldiers, two of them assassins, singing along to a children's movie that evening. He called everyone together for a family dinner, as he called it, wanting everyone around because Clary was back and she was alive.

"I swear to god, if I hear those fucking Disney nerds singing 'Hakuna Matata' one more time, I'm going to shoot someone," Stark grumbled, thinking we couldn't hear him.

"Hey, it means 'no worries,' not 'all the worries!'" I called.

"Mufasa," Pietro said, causing Wanda to start giggling uncontrollably.

"Oh, I'm surrounded by idiots," Clary sighed, causing the twins to laugh harder. Everyone was making their way from the kitchen into the living room, sitting around on couches, chairs, and the floor. We were silent for a long time, no one saying anything, and Clary finally broke the silence by saying, "I killed over thirty people when I was with them. Thirty was where I stopped counting. And the first month, I was out of action."

"Clary, you don't have to talk about it," I said, placing a hand on her arm.

"I do, Buck," she replied. "I gotta say it. I was their puppet, and they were my master. They labeled me the Executioner, so I labeled them dead. Living up to the name, I suppose. What I felt, what I've known, I couldn't let it shine through what I was shown. I was never free, never me. What they did, it can only be unforgiven. What they did to me, the games they played, I don't remember who I was. I don't remember any of you. I don't know you, not like I used to. I've got an idea, thanks to Daryl and Bucky, but I don't remember you. I don't remember me. You're just a familiar face, a ghost in the crowd." Clary looked down, speaking just to speak, as if she forgot everyone was there. "When Bucky said my name, back there in that place… I remembered. Not everything, not who I was. But I did remember him. My Bucky. He said 'Clary,' and suddenly, I was the sixteen year old from before Hydra again. Out of all of it, all of this information hidden away up here, the only thing I can remember is my Bucky."

Everyone was completely silent, lost in their thoughts, and we all jumped when Maggie let out a sob. Glenn wrapped an arm around his wife, who buried her face in his shoulder as she cried. Clary looked down, not having expected a reaction like that after she said what she wanted to say. "I'm sorry," Clary whispered. "I'm sorry, Maggie. I didn't… I wasn't tryin' to upset you."

"How can you say that _you're_ sorry after everything that's happened to you?" Maggie questioned, sniffling as she lifted her head from Glenn's shoulder.

"I don't know. I don't know."

Glenn gave her a sad smile, then said, "I think we're gonna head home. It's getting late."

There was a round of goodnights and the two left, and others followed after them. Soon, the only people that were left were Rick, Michonne, Daryl, Carl, Steve, Clary, and I. Daryl was holding Judith, trying to get her to fall asleep after Rick couldn't. He sighed, giving up and passing her off to Michonne, who chuckled and took the baby. She took Judith upstairs, and was followed by Rick, and after a few minutes, Carl. Steve disappeared upstairs after saying goodnight, leaving Clary, Daryl, and I. "So now what?" I questioned.

"Put a movie in," Daryl suggested. "Someone had season two of _Supernatural_ , put it in this house. We could watch that."

"Clary picks the episode," I said, deciding that we'd watch the show.

"Let me see 'em," she said, sitting up and looking at the list. "Ooh, 'Born Under a Bad Sign' sounds good."

"You heard the lady," I said, and Daryl flicked to the fourteenth episode. We settled back, Clary cocking her head to the side like a certain angel as she watched the "previously on," trying to figure out the show. On screen, Dean demanded, " _Sammy, where the hell are you?"_

"Sammy," Clary breathed, eyes widening at the name. Daryl looked at me, both of us trying to figure out what was going on with her, before it finally clicked. "Oh, god, Sammy."

"She's remembering," I said, climbing off the couch and kneeling in front of Clary. "Hey, Clary, you with me?" I glanced at Daryl over my shoulder. "That's what she called him, wasn't it? She called him 'Sammy.'" I looked back up at Clary, fear in her eyes as she remembered the end of her friend, one that was a brother to her. "Clary? Can you hear me? Clary!"

Clary looked down at me, swallowing before she said, "Who the hell is Sammy? Who was he?"

"He was your friend," Daryl said solemnly. "He died early on. You were holding onto him. Bucky, can I talk with you?"

"Stay right here," I ordered Clary, echoing Dean, then got up and followed Daryl to the kitchen. "Yeah?"

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Every now and then, I hear a word from my past, and it triggers memories that I thought I'd forgotten. The first time I heard 'Coney Island,' I remembered going there with Steve. She heard Sammy, and she remembered him."

"You think she'll remember anything else?"

"It's possible," I answered. "I mean, she wasn't with them as long as I was. I'd say it's probably easier for her to remember than it was for me."

Daryl looked past me, staring sadly at Clary, who sat in silence on the couch, staring down at her hands. He followed me back into the living room, taking a seat in a chair while I sat next to Clary. Immediately, she curled up next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. A little under fifteen minutes in, Clary shifted beside me, almost as if she was uncomfortable, as Dean said, " _No one can control you but you."_

" _It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean,"_ Sam replied. " _It feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely, I'm just becoming who I'm meant to be. You said it once yourself, Dean. I gotta face up to who I am."_

" _I didn't mean this!"_ Dean cried.

" _But it's still true! You know that. Dad knew that, too. That's why he told you if it ever came to this—"_

" _Shut up, Sam."_

" _Dean, you promised him. You promised me."_

"Hey, Bucky?" Clary questioned, taking my attention from the show.

"Yeah?" I replied.

"You think I'll end up like that? Like Sam? A monster that kills their own?"

"Clary, why would you say something like that? Of course not. And hey, Sam's not a monster. Neither of you are."

"I'm already close to it," she mumbled. "If I ain't there already."

I wrapped my arm around her, kissing her forehead. "It's okay," I told her. "You're okay now."

"You can't make things better just by saying that they're okay. I mean, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, but that won't stop me from trying."

Clary went silent, lost in either her thoughts or the show. Once the episode was over, Daryl got to his feet, announcing, "I'm tired, and I'm going to bed."

"Night," Clary and I called as he headed to his room. I looked down at the girl beside me. "What about you? Ready for bed?"

Clary nodded, and I shut the tv off, walking her to her room. I leaned against her doorframe, watching as she climbed into her bed. "Night, Clary," I said. "I'm the next door over if you need anything."

She nodded, then whispered, "Night, James."

"Hey," I said, and she looked up. "Love you."

She finally smiled at that, giving me a small grin. "Love you."

I turned away from the door as she laid down, climbing in bed with Steve in the next room. He stirred slightly as I climbed in, opening his eyes. "Hey," he murmured.

"Hey," I replied.

"I thought you'd be over with her again."

"Clary knows I'm right next door." I glanced up at the wall separating the two rooms. "She'll be okay. She has to be."

I looked back to Steve, but he was already asleep again. I kissed his forehead, then closed my eyes, drifting off.

* * *

I jerked awake in the middle of the night to a scream, lifting my head from my pillow, unsure if I imagined it. At the next cry, I had already leapt out of bed, running out the door. I rushed into Clary's room, to find her on her bed, trying to fight back against whatever was in her dream. I took her by her arms, holding her down so she didn't hurt me or herself. "Clary, Clary, hey," I rushed. "Clary, wake up. Wake up! It's okay, just wake up!"

Clary snapped awake, wrapping her hands around my biceps. It took her a minute to realize what was going on, where she was at. Her voice was hoarse from screaming herself awake as she croaked, "James?"

"Hey, it's okay," I told her. "It's me, it's me, it's okay. You're okay."

"Bucky?" I heard Rick ask from the door, and I turned to see him standing there, Carl behind him. "What's going on?"

"I've got her," I told them. "It's okay."

Rick turned away, satisfied, but Carl remained. He walked in, wrapping an arm around Clary as he leaned down to hug her. "You're safe," he told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "It's okay now. You're with us." Carl pulled away, looking down at me. "Take care of her. Please."

"Always," I promised him.

Carl squeezed my shoulder as he passed. "You're a good man, Buck."

He gently closed the door behind him, leaving me with Clary. "It's okay," I told her. "I'm here. It's gonna be okay." Clary was silent, staring at something that wasn't there. "Hey. You wanna go for a walk? It helps."

After a moment, Clary nodded, and she climbed out of bed, pulling on her boots. I did the same, resting a hand on her back as we ventured down the stairs and out the front door. Glenn was walking towards the front porch as we stepped out onto it, asking, "Hey, what's going on? I heard Clary scream."

"A dream," I said. "It's the PTSD. It happens when you were with Hydra."

Glenn looked us over, asking, "You guys going for a walk?"

"It helps," I told him. "Join us?"

Glenn nodded once, waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, where he walked on Clary's other side. "Maggie," Clary eventually said. "Is she okay?"

"She's alright," Glenn told her, taking Clary's hand. "She's just worried about you. Maggie cares about you, Clary. She can't take anyone hurting you like that. The thought of someone doing that to you upset her."

"So… she's not mad at me?"

"Why would you say something like that? No, never! Maggie could never be mad at you. You did nothing wrong." I suddenly came to a halt, realizing where I led them to. I wasn't paying attention, and I was so used to walking alone at nights that I ended up taking my usual route. "Bucky?"

"I didn't mean to lead us here," I said. "I'd come here when I couldn't sleep."

"This is where you went off to at night?" Glenn asked. "To the graveyard?" I turned to him, wondering how he knew I left the house most nights. He didn't live with us, not anymore. "I saw you leave a couple times."

I knelt like I used to, staring at the piece of wood with the name "Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon" painted on it. Natasha was the one that did it, since she had the most beautiful handwriting out of all of us. I ran my fingers over the words, the ones I knew all too well. " _Teach me how to say goodbye,"_ Clary read.

"I didn't think you'd ever come back, and you always had a problem with saying goodbye," I told her, staring ahead at the board that served as her tombstone. Beside her, the only member of that run team that made it back was buried. Alycia, who couldn't take the survivor's guilt and killed herself about two weeks after we thought Clary died. "I wish she could see you. Alycia never got to know you were alive."

"I remember that day," Glenn said. "Your funeral. Steve… he thought you should have a twenty-one gun salute. Daryl said no way in hell. He knew you'd give us hell for using bullets on something that wasn't walkers or the enemy, and then there was the matter of the sound attracting them."

"I still don't know what made him think that would be the best tribute," I said, shaking my head. "We were ready to go to war with the Saviors for you. We were doing it in your name, but you… you beat us to the punch." Clary suddenly shivered, rubbing her arms to warm them. "You cold?" She nodded. "Why didn't you bring a jacket?" Clary shrugged, and I shook my head, taking off mine and putting it over her shoulders. "C'mon. It's late. Let's get back."

Clary was silent as she walked between us again, heading back to the house. We stopped at Glenn's, waving him goodbye and bidding him goodnight. We waited until he closed the door to head back to our house, making as little noise as possible as we climbed the stairs. I closed her door behind us, hanging my jacket on the back of a chair as she crawled back into her bed after kicking off her shoes. "James?" Clary whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay?"

"Of course," I told her. I laid down on my stomach, throwing one of my arms across her stomach. She wrapped one of her arms around mine, stretching the other one out, which I rested my head on. Clary took my hand in hers, using her other hand to run her fingers through my hair, as if to reassure herself that I wasn't going to disappear. "What would I do without you, James?" she whispered.

"Don't think about it," I recommended.

"But one day, you'll be gone. Like you thought I was."

"Shh, Clary, stop," I said, opening my eyes to look at her. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm here, with you. Let's focus on that, okay? On the here and now. Close your eyes, doll, and sleep. It's okay. I'm here."

Clary closed her eyes, and I did the same. About fifteen minutes later, I heard Clary's breathing even out, signaling she was asleep again. _Hopefully it's for the rest of the night. She needs sleep_. I opened my eyes, looking down at her. I muttered, "I won't always be here. What _are_ you going to do without me?"


	12. Missions

**Chapter 11: Missions**

 **Clary**

I woke before Bucky, the early light streaming in the windows. I looked away from the windows, to where Bucky was still asleep on my left. I studied him, how he looked so peaceful. The years of pain and torture he endured seemed to vanish while he slept, showing the young Sergeant Barnes from Brooklyn, not the Winter Soldier. He stirred as if in response to me being awake, but he didn't wake. His expression changed as he mumbled, "No, get back. Get away from her. Please!"

"Bucky?" I questioned, lifting my head to look past him at the door, wondering if there was someone there. I checked my other side, then looked back at Bucky, as there wasn't anyone near us. "Bucky?"

"Don't touch her!" Bucky begged. "Please! Take me!"

"Buck," I said, shaking his arm. "Hey, wake up. Bucky!"

It took him a minute to finally open his eyes, and when he did, he breathed out a sigh, hugging me tighter. "You're okay," he whispered, moving his head to my shoulder. "They weren't here. You're okay, you're here. It was a dream."

"Yeah, I'm here," I told him, kissing his forehead. "It wasn't real."

Bucky's eyelashes brushed my neck as he closed his eyes, his breathing slowly evening out as he fell asleep again. I had been planning on getting up, but I didn't move, not wanting to wake Bucky up. I looked up as the door opened about half an hour later, Steve leaning in. "Morning," he said softly.

"Hey," I replied, glancing down at Bucky, waiting to see if Steve woke him.

"I figured he'd be with you," Steve said. "Just so you know, he's a cuddler."

"I've noticed."

Steve chuckled, gently closing the door as he retreated into the hall. Bucky stirred, releasing his hold on me as he flipped onto his other side, clutching a pillow instead. I slipped out of bed, making my way out of the room and downstairs as quietly as I could. Steve looked up from where he was talking to Carl as I entered the kitchen, stretching. Carl slid off the stool he was sitting on, pouring freshly brewed coffee into a cup and sliding it across the island to me. "Hot and black," he said. "The way you always liked it."

I thanked him, drinking my coffee while Carl and Steve ate cereal. Sensing Steve staring at me, I lifted my gaze, only to find him staring at my arm. I shifted in an attempt to hide it, but it was harder to in a t-shirt than it was in a jacket. "Sorry," Steve apologized. "It's just… I was wondering—"

Carl looked up from his cereal at that. "Steve," Carl cut him off, glaring at him. "She might not want to talk 'bout it. You of all people should know."

"It's okay," I told Carl. "Really, it is. After last night, I don't think I have any room to object to questioning."

"Clary, is it okay if I ask about your arm?" Steve questioned. "I know you're uncomfortable with it and all, and..."

"What do you want to know, Steve?"

"Can I ask how you lost it? Your real one?"

I didn't look up from my coffee as I said, "I was bit. It's how I wound up with Hydra. Sokolski and another guy saved me. I don't remember anything after that. I barely remember that."

"Sokolski?" Carl repeated.

"My handler. The one in charge of me. Looking back on it, I wonder why I never realized he looked like Rick when I first met him. Maybe it was the shock, the fear." I throw back the last of my coffee, passing the mug over to Carl as he could reach the sink from where he was sitting. "Do either of you know where Daryl's at? I had this dream last night… I'm not sure if it was a dream or a memory. I needed to ask him."

"He's out working on his bike, I think," Steve told me. "In front of the house." I got to my feet, turning to walk out the door. "Hey, wait!"

I turned back to face him. "Yeah?"

"Tell him to get his ass in here," Steve ordered. "He hasn't really eaten since the Saviors' compound. You saw he barely ate anything last night."

I saluted him. "You got it."

"You know you don't have to salute me, right?" Steve called after me. "I appreciate it and all, but you don't have to."

"You're a captain," I called over my shoulder. "You salute your higher-ups."

Steve sighed, shaking his head as Carl chuckled. I made my way outside, stopping on the sidewalk behind my older brother. "You're supposed to get your ass inside," I told him. "Captain's orders."

Daryl jumped, dropping the rag in his hands as he turned. "Jesus!"

"No, I'm Clary," I said.

"You scared the hell out of me," Daryl panted. "We've gotta get you a bell or something. All this sneakin' shit."

"Sorry," I apologized. "It's a habit from my training. And from before all of this."

"You remember hunting?"

I take a seat on the curb, wrapping my arms around my knees. "I had a dream last night, but I'm not sure if it was real or not. I mean, if it was a memory or not."

Daryl patted my knee, then moved his hand to mine. I started to pull my hand away, not trusting myself to touch anyone I cared about with the machine attached to me. "Hey," Daryl said softly.

"You sure?" I asked.

"I trust you. You won't hurt me." So I kept my hand in his, warm flesh touching cool metal. Slowly, I wrapped my fingers around his hand, mirroring him. "See? It's okay. You're not hurting me. You won't hurt anyone that doesn't deserve it. Will you tell me about your dream?"

"It's more clear now, the more I think about it. It was a memory. I just… I remember being so scared. Seeing you lying there, all bloody. And it was your own blood, too. I knew you were alive but you weren't moving, and it scared the hell outta me, Daryl."

"Hey, it's okay," Daryl assured me, gently rubbing my arm with his free hand. "It's over now."

"That's what you said to me when you woke up," I told him. "In the back of a car. Wait, was it a truck?"

"My truck. Merle was driving. I know what you're talking about now. You were barely nine when that happened. I went to go get you from Will's, 'cause you called me and said he was drinkin'. And I got there just in time, but he was in a bad mood. He beat the hell out of me, nearly broke my nose."

"He nearly killed you, Daryl."

"Who did?" Carol demanded as she arrived, crossing her arms over her chest. "Daryl? You okay?"

"It's fine," he told her, looking up. "Clary had a dream last night. A memory, from before."

Carol looked down at me. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"Gotta be," I replied.

"There are things you say, the way you say them," Daryl said, then paused, sighing. "It's like seein' a ghost. What you used to be. It shines through who you are now."

Carol, deciding to change the subject, gestured to Daryl's bike. "Didn't even notice you got it back."

She took a seat on the curb on one side of me, Daryl on the other. "Got another one of those?" Daryl questioned, nodding to the cigarette in her hand.

"Yeah, same here," I said. Carol held out a pack, and we each took one. Carol looked back at the bike as we lit our cigarettes.

"Those people you met," Carol started. "The ones in the burnt forest, they took it from you?" Daryl nodded once. "You saved them, right?" Daryl said nothing. "Sorry. It's who you are. We're still stuck with that."

Daryl looked at her. "No, we ain't. I should've killed them."

"If I was with you, I would've," I muttered, getting to my feet. "I don't hesitate. We're livin' in a world where we _can't_ hesitate anymore."

As I walked away, I could hear the two talking behind me. "God, it's like she's still here sometimes," Daryl said. "The old Clary, the one before she became the Executioner. It's like seeing a reflection in a mirror."

* * *

"Hey, Dixon!" Rosita called from down the street.

Daryl and I turned, and I called, "Which one?"

She just waved us over to where she and Denise stood, the latter holding a map in her hand. Denise told us, "After I got out of DC, I just drove. I remember seeing it right when I realized I had no idea where I was going. Edison's Apothecary and Boutique. It's just this little gift shop in a strip mall, but if it's really an apothecary, they had drugs."

"How do you know they still got 'em?" Daryl questioned.

"It isn't that far. I just wanna check. And you, Clary, and Rosita aren't out scavenging or pulling shifts."

"We'll go," I told her.

"You sure you're good to go out?" Daryl questioned, resting a hand on my arm. "After all, you just got back…"

"It's fine, Daryl. You'll be with me, won't you?"

Denise cut him off before he could answer, saying, " _I_ wanted to check. I just wanted to help."

"How much time you spent out there?" Daryl said, nodding towards the walls.

"None," she admitted.

"Forget it," Daryl told her.

"I can ID the meds. I know how to use a machete now. I've seen roamers up close. I'm ready."

"I don't think you are," I said. "You ain't ready for the shit that's out there."

To Rosita, Daryl asked, "You good with this?"

"No," Rosita said with a shake of her head.

"I'll go alone, if I have to," Denise sighed.

"You'll die alone," Daryl corrected.

"I'm asking you to make sure I don't."

I shook my head when Daryl looked at me, and he turned his gaze to Rosita. She shook her head, telling him, "I'm not babysitting her by myself."

Denise turned to Daryl and I with a smug look on her face, knowing that she won. "Dammit," I sighed, shifting my crossbow on my shoulder. "Let's go."

* * *

We took a truck, Rosita and Denise in the cab with Daryl behind the wheel, and I sat in the bed, watching Alexandria disappear in the distance behind us. As he drove, the truck jerked, gears grinding. "What the hell is he doing?" I muttered to myself.

The truck jerked, and my ass left the truck bed as he drove over a speed bump. I groaned as I landed, then hit the glass with my hand, causing it to crack. Denise and Rosita ducked down, and I pulled my hand away, surprised that the glass didn't shatter. "Dammit, Daryl!" I yelled. "Take it easy!"

"Watch it," I heard Rosita scold from inside. "Clary's back there."

Not long after, Daryl slowed to a stop, and I turned to see the road blocked by a fallen tree that the truck had no chance of getting around. The doors opened, Daryl and Rosita climbing out after ordering Denise to stay in the truck. I got to my feet, climbing on top of the roof. "I'll keep watch from up here," I told them, putting the butt of my crossbow on my shoulder. "I got your back."

I scanned the surrounding area, looking for any person that's not one of us, or any walkers. I turned back to Daryl and Rosita as they approached the fallen tree. I saw a walker under the branches, and took aim as Rosita stepped towards it. I fired, and Rosita jumped back, then turned to look at me. "Walker," I called. "Didn't know if you saw it."

"Thanks," she replied. "But I did see it."

She and Daryl looked around, then nodded to me. I stepped off the roof onto the hood, then onto the pavement below. I opened the door for Denise, telling her, "Clear."

Denise climbed out, and I followed beside her, my bow in one hand, as she made her way towards Rosita. "What'd you find?" Denise questioned, gesturing to the bag in Rosita's hand.

"Bottles of booze," Rosita answered, holding it up. "Any takers?"

"No, thanks," Denise replied.

"For later," Rosita tried. "I'm not bringing these to the pantry."

"I'm good," Denise repeated as I said, "I'd tell you to save me some, but I don't know if I can get drunk anymore."

"Why not?" Rosita asked.

"Supersoldier serum. Steve can't get drunk. The one they used on Bucky and I was different, but not by much."

"That _sucks_ ," Rosita said. "Abraham's gonna be pissed. You two were drinking buddies when Alexandria had that welcoming party for us."

"The truck ain't gonna make it past this tree," Daryl reported, climbing back over the trunk. "C'mon, let's walk."

"Hold up," Denise said, and Daryl and I stopped, looking back at her. "Looks like a straight shot if we follow the tracks."

"No," Daryl immediately objected, stepping between me and the tracks. "No damn tracks. We'll take the road."

"That's twice as far," Rosita argued.

"Go whichever way you like," Daryl replied, taking my hand as we walked. "But we ain't takin' no tracks."

"We should stick together," Denise said before joining Daryl and I on the other side of the tree. I turned, watching to see if Rosita joined us, but she started off on the tracks. "Let's go."

We walked in silence, and eventually, I had to ask. "Daryl? Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Shoot," he replied.

"Why were you so hell-bent on us not takin' the tracks?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Denise piped up.

Daryl paused, turning around to look at me. "There's somethin' that happened on tracks like those," he said. "Somethin' real bad."

"What was it?" Denise questioned.

"Drop it," Daryl snapped. "It was bad enough that she activated the Winter Soldier in Bucky. I don't want her havin' to remember it."

I fell silent, knowing how bad it must've been if I did something I promised Bucky I would never do. When we came to another railroad crossing, we found Rosita sitting in the middle of the road, waiting for us. She got to her feet when she saw us, remarking, "About time."

Daryl and I walked ahead in silence, while Rosita and Denise conversed behind us. We reached the apothecary not long after, Daryl knocking on the door to get the attention of any walkers inside. He pressed his ear against the door, listening, and after a minute of that, I asked, "Hear anything?"

"No," he replied. "Still, though, you, me, and Rosita are gonna do this. Denise, you stay back, got it?"

Denise nodded once, and Daryl dug a crowbar out, prying open the door. We filed in, weapons raised, Denise gagging at the smell of rot behind us. "We gonna find out what you had for breakfast?" Daryl questioned.

"Oatmeal," Denise answered. "Just so you know."

I whistled, waiting for the sound to draw out any walkers. After a moment, nothing. Rosita said, "Hey."

I look over to where she shines her flashlight, highlighting the pharmacy window. Daryl used his crowbar, trying to jimmy open the window. "Why do I remember this?" I asked.

"Clary?" Rosita said, and Daryl looked over his shoulder as I stepped towards the window, resting my hands on it. "Clary?"

"I _remember_ something like this," I said, running my fingers over the window. "I was in a pharmacy with some people. I… I don't know them. No, wait, I think Glenn was there. We were in a pharmacy, and an alarm was tripped. Alarms started blarin', we got overrun."

"Macon," Daryl said after a moment. "That's where you said you met Glenn. I think that's what you're remembering."

"When we get back, I'll ask him," I said.

Daryl went back to trying to get the pharmacy window open, to no luck. "Son of a bitch," he cursed under his breath. "I can't get the bastard." He looked to me, his eyes landing on my arm. "Um, Clary…"

I gave my crossbow to him, managing to pull the window up. I pushed it open the rest of the way, revealing shelves full of pill bottles and no walkers. "Look at that," Daryl said, giving me my crossbow back. "Full shelves, no walkers. That's a win."

"Since when are you so glass-half-full?" Rosita asked.

"I'm not," Daryl argued. "I'm just sayin'."

I jumped up on the counter, sliding over it, before dropping down to the other side. "Alright, Denise, we're takin' it all, but what do we _need_?"

"We're good right now," Denise answered. "I just wanted to come to make sure we're well stocked."

"You heard the good doctor," I said. "Take it all."

We stopped when there was a thudding, looking in the direction it came from, behind a door. "It's just one," Rosita said, then turned and went back to our scavenging.

"It sounds like it's stuck," Daryl added, rejoining Rosita and I.

I knelt next to Rosita, taking the bottom shelves while she took the top. "It's 'cause of Terminus, right?" she said. "Why you won't take the tracks?"

I got to my feet, putting my bag over my shoulder. "What do you mean? The hell's Terminus?"

Rosita looks down at me. "You don't remember it."

"Rosita," Daryl said, having heard our conversation. "There's a reason I made sure she wasn't on the tracks."

We turned with a jump as glass shattered, and I drew my gun, taking aim. I lowered it when I realized it was just Denise, who backed into a stand and knocked the glass off. "What the hell are you doing?" Rosita asked.

"Nothing," Denise replied, then turned and walked out of the shop. The three of us still inside looked at each other, then got back to filling our bags with pills. Once we were finished, we headed outside, where Denise sat on the ground. She didn't look at us as we exited, and Rosita turned back to us, silently telling us to do something. I shook my head. "Not my division."

Rosita turned to Daryl, and he frowned before giving in. "Hey," Daryl said, and Denise turned, knowing that he was addressing her. "You did good findin' this place."

Denise got to her feet with a nod of thanks, and I told her, "Tried to tell you that you weren't ready. We all did."

"I know," Denise replied.

"C'mon," Rosita said, nodding towards the street. "Let's go."

We walked in silence, Daryl eventually breaking it by asking, "Was he older or younger?"

Denise looked over at him, asking, "What?"

"Your brother," Daryl rephrased. "Was he older or younger?"

"Older," she answered, grinning a bit now. "My parents came up with the Dennis-Denise thing on one of their benders. Hilarious, right?"

"Your parents cared enough to name you," I said. "Wonder what that feels like."

"You remember that?" Daryl asked. "I mean, you remember that I named you?"

"Uh, Bucky told me," I admitted.

"I've always wondered why you went by your middle name."

"Cheyenne's a mouthful."

Daryl rolled his eyes, while Denise chuckled at us. "My brother, nothing scared him," she said. "He was brave. He was angry, too. It's kind of a dangerous combination."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, looking over at me.

"Remind you of anyone, Daryl?" I asked. "I remember him."

"Sounds like we had the same brother," Daryl said.

Denise looked over at me as Daryl walked ahead, and I told her, "Merle, our brother. Had a god complex that nothin' could touch him. He was angry as hell at just 'bout everythin'. We clashed every time we saw each other. I think we were a little too alike. The last thing I ever said to him… 'No one's gonna mourn you.' And then he was killed, savin' our asses. I never thought I'd see anyone worse than the Governor, and then came… the people at Terminus. The Saviors. They just keep gettin' bigger and badder, and now I'm the one destined to die, just to save us. I accepted that long ago. I'm just waitin' for when my time's up." I looked ahead as Daryl started off on the tracks. "Daryl! What're you doin'?"

"This way's faster, ain't it?" he called back, looking towards Rosita.

I hung back with Rosita and Denise as we walk, Daryl in the lead. "That's the thing about him," Rosita said, watching him as we walked. "Something I've noticed. He never directly says when he's wrong, but he acknowledges it."

"He'll never directly say he was wrong," I said. "He'll say he's sorry, but he'll never say he was wrong. Not in the way you think he will. He finds a way to say you were right. He knows when he's wrong. He's the best man I'll ever know."

* * *

 **Daryl**

As we walked past a group of cars, there was a bit of growling, but we ignored the walker, knowing that it was stuck. Denise called up to us, "Hey! There's a cooler in there! Might be something we can use inside!"

Rosita, Clary, and I turned, Rosita telling her, "We got what we came for."

"It ain't worth the trouble," I added. "C'mon."

The three of us continued on, only stopping and turning when we heard growling and grunts. "Shit," Clary breathed before taking off, crossbow in hand.

Rosita and I followed behind her, arriving to find Denise rolling on top of a walker, straddling it to keep it pinned down. "No!" Denise barked, seeing us arrive. "Don't!"

She pulled her arm from the walker's grasp, driving her knife into its head. Denise got to her feet, putting her knife away, and brushed the hair out of her face. "Lose your glasses there, Velma?" Clary asked.

She turned to face us, held up a finger to say one moment, then vomited onto her glasses. "Aw, man," Denise sighed, straightening. "I threw up on my glasses."

She picked them up, sticking them in her pocket, before kneeling by the cooler. She grinned, looking down into it, then said, "Hot damn!"

"What the hell was that?" I questioned. "You could've died right there, you know that?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Are you hearin' me?"

"Who gives a shit?" Denise snapped, getting to her feet. "You could've died killing those Saviors, going into the Hydra base, but you didn't! You wanna live, you take chances! That's how it works. That's what I did."

"For a couple of damn sodas?"

"Nope," she replied, holding up a can of orange Crush as she walked past. _Tara,_ I remembered, as Denise asked me to find one for her before she left on the two week run with Heath. "Just this one."

I looked at Rosita and Clary, the latter having already taken off after Denise. Rosita and I followed as Clary questioned, "Are you seriously that stupid?"

Denise stopped, turning to face us. "Are you? I mean it. Are you? Do you have any clue what that was to me, what this whole thing is to me? See, I have training in this shit. I'm not making it up as I go along, like with the stitches and the surgery." Denise looked over to me. "I asked you to come with me because you're brave like my brother and sometimes you actually make me feel safe." Denise turned to Clary, who shifted on her feet, looking like she wasn't quite with us. "You, you're tough as hell, and I wanna be like that. But the reason I wanted you here is 'cause you don't remember who you are, and I want you to find yourself. 'Cause you're a leader, not a soldier. Those people back at Alexandria, the ones right here right now, they need you. They need you right beside Rick, leading us. Like you used to. That's who you were before." Denise turned to look at Rosita. "And I wanted you here because you're alone. Probably for the first time in your life. And because you're stronger than you think you are, which gives me hope that maybe I can be, too." Denise sighed, shaking her head. "I could've gone with Tara. I could've told her I loved her, but I didn't because I was afraid. That's what's stupid. Not coming out here, not facing my shit. And it makes me sick that you guys aren't even trying because you're strong and you're smart and you're all really good people, and if you don't wake up—"

Denise was cut off by the familiar sound of a crossbow firing, and I turned to look at Clary, but her cry caused me to turn back to Denise. I found myself staring at the arrow in her head, the oh-so familiar crossbow arrow, as she fell forward. I caught her before she could hit the ground, but as I lowered her to the train tracks, I knew she was gone. On either side of me, Rosita and Clary raised their guns, and I followed their lead, staring as a group of about fifteen emerge from the woods, guns raised. A voice that I found myself recognizing shouted, "You drop 'em now!"

I lowered my gun, watching as the blond bastard that took my bike and crossbow emerged from the woods, forcing Eugene forward, and then to his knees, a look of terror and horror on the fake scientist's face. The blond asshole from the burnt forest grinned as he recognized me, remarking, "Well, hell."

"Eugene," Clary said. "You hurt?"

The former science teacher shook his head, and the blond in charge noticed me glaring at him, and asked, "You got something to say to me? You gonna clear the air? Step up on that high horse? No. You don't talk much."

He turned his head, nodding to three of his men, and I noticed the side of his face was scarred, like it was burned. It wasn't like that the last time I saw him. His men stepped forward, patting us down before taking our bags and weapons. The one patting down Clary put his hand on her arm, his eyes widening as he felt the metal beneath her jacket sleeve. "What the hell?" he questioned.

Clary pulled her jacket off, her metal arm reflecting the sunlight. Guns shifted in her direction, and the Savior next to her retreated to his side. The blond noticed me staring at my crossbow in his hand, and told me, "I'm still getting the hang of her. Kicks like a bitch, but—"

"I should've done it," I said, cutting him off.

"Oh, what's that? Seriously, I didn't catch what you said."

"I should've killed you," I repeated, louder this time.

"Yeah, you probably should've. So, here we are. Kind of begs the question, right? Who brought this on who? I mean, I get that you'll just have to take my word for this, but… she wasn't even the one I was aiming for. Like I said, kicks like a bitch. It's nothing personal."

"I'll make it personal, you dickhead," Clary snapped.

"Look, this isn't how we like to start new business arrangements, but, well, you pricks kind of set the tone, didn't you?"

"You're with him," Clary said. "You're with Negan. Oh, god." She started muttering in Russian, switching back to English after a few sentences. " _I failed my mission."_

"We'll take care of it," I whispered to her. "It's okay. They weren't there. You didn't fail."

"What do you want?" Rosita demanded.

"I'm sorry, darling, I didn't catch your name," the blond apologized. "I'm D, or Dwight. You can call me either."

"How 'bout Dick?" Clary questioned.

"Ooh, you're a feisty one, aren't you? Real fiery!" Dwight said with a bit of a laugh, looking over at my sister. "Negan's gonna like you. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Rosita, that's Clary," Rosita introduced. "What do you want?"

"Well, Rosita, it's not what I want. It's what you, Daryl, and Clary are going to do."

"And what might that be?" Clary demanded, flexing her metal arm.

"You're going to let us into your little complex," Dwight demanded, not intimidated by Clary or her arm. _Someone's never heard of the Winter Soldier._ "It looks like it's just beautiful in there. And then, you're going to let us take whatever and whoever we want. Or, we blow Eugene's brains out. Then Rosita's. And then yours." Dwight nodded towards me. "And his last. But I hope it doesn't come to that, really. Nobody else has to die. We just try and start with one. You know, maximum impact to get our point across. So, what's it gonna be? You tell me."

"You want to kill someone," Eugene said, nodding towards the oil barrels on their side of the tracks. "You start with our companion hiding over there behind the oil barrels. He's a first class a-hole and he deserves it so much more than us four."

I glanced towards the oil barrels, remembering that Eugene was going out with Abraham today, but I didn't see the ginger. Dwight drew his handgun, ordering to his men, "Go check it out."

A few of his people made their way towards the barrels, and that was when Eugene made his move. He turned, biting Dwight's dick, and Abraham started firing from the woods. Clary and I slit the throats of the two men still near us, then took our guns back. I ran for cover with Rosita, while Clary fired on the Saviors to buy us time. She covered her head with her arm, the bullets ricocheting off. "Clary!" I shouted over the gunfire. "Clary!"

"Cover me!" she barked. Rosita and I fired on Dwight's men as Clary ran for the car I ducked behind, sliding over the hood and dropping down beside me. Dwight's men and our group fired back and forth, the gunfire drawing out walkers. Dwight managed to shove Eugene off, and now without our man in the crosshairs, we fired towards Dwight. He hit the deck, yelling for his people to fall back. I stood to fire as they run, Clary following me, then held out her hand, blocking a bullet meant for me. She pulled me down beside her, covering our heads with her arm. When the gunfire stopped, I took off, grabbing my crossbow and a second gun, starting to run after them. Clary's urgent cry forced me to stop, though, and it took me a second to process her words. " _Daryl, don't! Eugene's hit!"_

I turned, looking on as she pressed her hands against his side, trying to stop the bleeding. Abraham and Rosita knelt beside her, and she barked, "We gotta get him back! Daryl, Abe, take an arm. Rose, get his legs! I got Denise!"

We did as Clary said, carrying him down the tracks towards the truck. I wondered how she was going to carry Denise by herself, then I remembered the strength in her metal arm, as well as what came from the supersoldier serum. Clary was in the lead, and I found myself staring at Denise in her arms. At yet another person I failed to save, to keep safe. Another mission I failed. And the worse part? She said that she felt safe when I was there. _I can't keep anyone safe._

* * *

 **Clary**

Rosita sat at Eugene's bedside, Daryl stared out the window, and I sat on the table, watching Eugene in silence. I turned as the door opened, Abraham coming through. "Rick's coming," the ginger reported. "How is he?"

"Bullet just grazed him," Rosita told him. "But it is a good thing we got him back when we did. Antibiotics we picked up could save him from an infection. Could save his life. That's what Denise did. She saved our lives." I slid off the table at Eugene's cough, Rosita asking, "You here?"

"Present," he replied. Satisfied, Rosita turned and walked out, and Abraham filled in the spot beside him, while I stood at the foot of his bed. Eugene looked up at Abraham, telling him, "I was not trying to kill you. I was looking for a moment."

"You found it," Abraham told him.

"Do you apologize for questioning my skills?"

"I apologize for questioning your skills," Abraham said with a bit of a laugh. "You know how to bite a dick, Eugene. And I mean that with the utmost of respect. Welcome to stage two."

"Don't need to welcome me. I've been here a while."

"You know, Eugene," I said, taking a seat on the bed beside him, "I don't remember everything, but I've been remembering more and more these past two days. I remember you stepping up. You're one of us, Eugene. You're a survivor."


	13. Good Evening

**Chapter 12: Good Evening...**

 **Bucky**

From within Alexandria, a motorcycle roared to life, and I turned in the direction it came from. "Oh shit," I said.

"This can't be good," Glenn said, from where he stood beside me. We watched as Daryl came around the corner, putting down the kickstand on his bike as he reached the gate. He climbed off, ignoring Rosita, and pulled open the gate. "Where're you going?" Rosita questioned.

"Out," Daryl answered.

"No shit," Abraham called from his watchpoint by the gate. "Got specifics?"

He was quiet as he got back on his bike, taking off through the opened gate. A second motorcycle started within Alexandria, and I turned, knowing that it was mine. "Shit," I repeated. "That's my bike. Rosita! Keep the gate open! I'm going after him!"

That's when I saw Clary on my bike, riding around the corner. I ran to meet her, reaching out as she drove past. I caught the bike, my hand tightening around the brake as it came to a stop, Clary flipping off. She slid on her knee, digging her metal fingers into the ground until she came to a stop. I was already on the bike, driving towards her. I held out my hand, and she took my arm, swinging onto the bike behind me. "Bucky!" Glenn shouted after us. "Hey!"

Glenn's shouts, as well as the walls of Alexandria, faded behind us. Over the engine, I shouted to Clary, "Which way?"

"Keep goin'!" she replied. "Until we hit the tracks!"

So I let Clary navigate, weaving around abandoned cars and walkers drawn by the sound of the motorcycles. I knew there were others behind us, most likely Glenn and Rosita. Glenn because of Clary, and Rosita because she knew where to go. That's why when we reached the spot where Denise died, I didn't bother to hide my motorcycle as we climbed off of it. They knew we were there. "You see anything?" I questioned, scanning the trees and tracks.

"Yeah," she replied, and I turned as she lifted up a pile of branches, revealing Daryl's motorcycle. "He's not far."

"Glenn and the others, they were coming right behind us. We're gonna wait for them."

"Bucky!" Clary protested. "We can't wait! He's gonna get himself killed!"

"And so will you," I replied shortly. "We're waiting."

"You can," she snapped, turning towards the forest. I caught her arm before she could leave, forgetting for a moment that her metal arm was on her right, not her left. She cried out, and I immediately released her, backing up. "Clary," I whispered.

"Don't," she snapped. This time, I didn't stop her as she started into the woods, instead remaining on the tracks. Even though she couldn't hear me, I whispered, "I'm sorry."

I was still standing there when a vehicle pulled to a stop next to me less than five minutes later. "Bucky!" Michonne shouted, climbing out of the van with Rosita. Glenn followed a few seconds later, strapping the wings he inherited from Sam around him. "Bucky! Where is she?"

"She took off," I said softly as they gathered around me. "By herself. We didn't catch up to Daryl."

"She's alone?" Glenn questioned, paling. He didn't wait for an answer before he took off, flying through the trees like the Falcon before him. It's kind of funny, really, how Clary became the new Winter Soldier while Glenn became the new Falcon. Sam and I bickered, but we were good friends, the same relationship that Glenn and Clary always had.

As Glenn took off, searching for Clary, Rosita stared down at a spot on the tracks not far from where I stood. "This is it," she said. "This is where she died."

"Hey," I said, placing a hand on her arm. "This isn't the time to get distracted. Don't think about it. You get distracted in the heat of the battle, you're a dead man. If there's one thing I learned from the war, from Hydra, it's that you can't let your emotions take over your actions."

"I've got Daryl's bike," Michonne said, lifting up a branch to reveal Daryl's motorcycle stashed underneath. "Where do we go? Glenn's gone."

I released Rosita, pointing into the woods. "Clary took off the way. That's the way Daryl went. With the supersoldier in her, she's already caught up to him. Glenn won't find them, not up above. We need him back here, so we can search on foot. You won't find her from up above. Hydra's smart, and so is she. Whatever she knew about hiding, they added on to it. You won't find her, not without me."

* * *

 **Rick**

I sat in silence while Morgan drove, and eventually, he said, "You didn't have to come."

"We have to try, even if it's a long shot," I replied. "Even if it's dangerous. Tire tracks pointed east, we go east."

"The Saviors compound that you and the group, that you went to, that was west." I looked over at him, wondering where he was going with this. "Seems like she went east."

I shook my head, glancing back out the window. "You don't even know Carol."

"Oh, I got to. A little."

"Why are you doing this?"

"What I believe, I'm not right." _No, he's not._ "There is no right." _Okay, maybe that's true._ "There's just the wrong that doesn't pull you down."

"It hasn't pulled me down," I said after a moment.

"I think it will. 'Cause I know you."

I sighed, staring out the window. He didn't know me, not like he used to. We weren't the same people we were at the beginning of this. I became a hardened killer, and he became a killer that refuses to kill.

About a mile later, we came to a stop after seeing a car parked in the middle of the road, men lying dead. We climbed out, looking around. "That's her car," I said, seeing the spiked vehicle she stole on the other side of the truck. "You see her?"

"No," Morgan replied, and I started forward, seeing a man still alive on the ground. I knelt next to him, grabbing his shirt collar to pull him up. "Where is she?" I demanded.

He gurgled, his own blood filling his throat, and I dropped him back down. I pulled out my knife, driving it into his head. He couldn't answer me, so he was no use to me. Morgan led the way around the back of the truck, and I knelt, picking up a spear. It was like the ones the men at Hilltop had. "The Saviors were getting weapons from the Hilltop's blacksmith," I told him. "These men were Saviors."

We continued forward, Morgan taking out the walker feeding on his dead companion. He checked the car, while I looked around for weapons left behind. "There's blood here!" Morgan called. "She could've been hit."

"I'm proud of her," I said, looking around.

"How's that?" Morgan inquired, walking back over to meet me.

"She took four of them down. That woman, she's a force of nature."

"She left because she can't anymore. That's what her letter said."

"She could because she had to. Sometimes you have to."

"There's more blood, opposite these men. It leads into the field. It's a trail, it could be Carol's. She could still be alive. She's not here."

"Most of their guns are gone," I said as I tucked the single gun I found into my jeans. "She might've taken them." I sighed as I walked over to meet him. "Or she could've died here. Even if she isn't here."

"The train goes this way," Morgan said with a frown, gesturing towards it.

I looked down at the blood, hardly able to see it with the grass. "Where's Clary when you need her?" I commented, starting off after him. "These Saviors, they were close to Alexandria. There's even more of them. We didn't end it."

"No," Morgan agreed. "You started something."

* * *

 **Clary**

"He's not far," I reported, placing the branches back overtop of Daryl's motorcycle.

"Glenn and the others, they were coming right behind us," Bucky said. "We're gonna wait for them."

"Bucky!" I protested, a worry for the brother I barely knew too strong for me not to do anything about it. "We can't wait! He's gonna get himself killed!"

"And so will you," he replied shortly. "We're waiting."

"You can wait!" I snapped, turning towards the forest. Bucky caught me before I could take off, using his metal arm to grab me. He must've forgotten that my metal arm wasn't my left, like his, and he grabbed me with enough strength that I knew it wouldn't take long for a bruise to form. I don't know how I knew it, but there was some feeling inside me that told me I had something like this happen before. I let out a cry, and Bucky immediately released me, backing away. I could see it in his face, that he was sorry. He whispered, "Clary…"

"Don't," I snapped. This time, he didn't try to stop me as I turned around and headed into the woods. As soon as I was sure Bucky wasn't behind me, I took off running, following Daryl's trail. He's an experienced hunter, so he knows how to hide a track. But he couldn't hide from me. Hunting with him all my life, and then what Hydra taught me about tracking, it was near impossible for me not to pick up on my brother's trail. I knew Bucky would be after me soon enough, so I didn't really bother to cover my tracks. It didn't take long to catch up with Daryl, and he seemed rather startled when I did. "What?" I asked, then glanced over my shoulder. "There's nothing behind me, is there?"

"How'd you catch up with me?" Daryl questioned. "I mean, I hid my trail."

"Not from me, you didn't," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. Since yesterday, I haven't really bothered with wearing my jacket when I'm outside the walls anymore. If I ran into someone while I was out here, I wanted them to know who I was.

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

"I came after you."

"Well, go back. I don't need your help."

"Yeah, okay, Rambo. Look, you can track, but so can I. You're a hunter, that's it. Me? I'm a trained soldier. You're not. I know what I'm doing. You don't. You're runnin' on rage alone. You ain't thinkin'. So sit back. I'm takin' over." Daryl started to speak, but I cut him off, shushing him, when I heard something above us. It wasn't directly above us, still a little ways away, but it was close. "You hear that?"

"Glenn," Daryl suddenly said. "It's Glenn. After Sam Wilson, the Falcon, died, he gave his suit to Glenn. I'd know that sound anywhere."

I turned in every direction, looking for a place to hide. We weren't getting caught by them, not that early on in the mission. "There," I said, pointing to a section of trees where the leaves were still on the branches. "Keep your head low."

Daryl and I ran to the low branches, kneeling underneath them. "Your arm," he said, moving to lean over it. "It reflects."

"Maybe I should've worn my jacket," I said. I changed my position so I was under him, using his body to cover my arm. Daryl started to open his mouth, but I shook my head. _Don't speak. He'll hear us._ Daryl nodded, understanding my silent message. We stayed like that, waiting until we were sure Glenn had left, before we got to our feet. "You got their trail?"

"Yeah," Daryl confirmed, and I let him lead, watching the surrounding area for any Saviors. This was his mission, I was just the backup, the extra muscle. I only said I was taking over to get him to slow down and think, to make him realize he couldn't do it on his own. Daryl slowed to a stop as we came to a large clearing, standing at the treeline. "Glenn flies by while we're in here, we're fucked."

"Trail lead through?" I questioned.

"Yeah."

"That's a chance we gotta take." Daryl nodded his agreement, and was getting ready to start forward when I put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Wait."

"Clary? What's wrong?"

"I… I know this field."

"Hydra?" I shook my head. "You came out here with Glenn before? On a run? Or maybe with the Avengers?"

"Nat, Steve, and Bucky. It was one of the days before the Wolves, the herd. I remember now. We came out for training."

"Training?"

"They saw me fight, said I wasn't doing it right. It was Steve's idea. You were the one that taught me to fight, but I'm not big like you. I'm small, like Steve before the serum. Agent Peggy Carter taught him to fight like a woman, using his size when he was still small to his advantage. Back then, it was Bucky that taught Steve to fight, but it wasn't right for him. That's why I'm a better fighter now. 'Cause Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff taught me to fight like a woman."

"Hey, I tried to teach you."

"You did. And you did good. But it wasn't right for me. They taught me to fight within my abilities, my limitations. Use my size to my advantage. Be fast, be resourceful. Bend your knees, get low, and use their momentum against 'em. You were the one that taught me that when it gets serious, fight dirty. And know the fight."

"I know our fight," Daryl said, glancing down at the trail. "We hear Glenn, run like hell for the treeline. He ain't catchin' us. Got it?"

"You'll have to keep up, Wings," I told him, taking the lead as we crossed the clearing. "Keep your eyes open. Remember Vietnam?"

"Hidden in the grass," Daryl confirmed. "Let's move."

We were over halfway across the clearing, nearly to the other side, when I heard something move in the forest. I held up my hand in a closed fist, signalling for Daryl to stop behind me. "Get down," he hissed. "I got 'em."

I took a knee, while Daryl stepped forward, firing his crossbow into the treeline. I got up, running to catch up with him, as he started into the woods. I watched as Rosita pulled his arrow out of the tree next to her head, snapping, "Watch the hell out, asshole!"

"I did," he replied, taking his arrow back. "You shouldn't have come."

"You shouldn't have left," Michonne snapped. "And Clary, if you want to hide, cover your arm. It reflects. That's how we found you."

I paused when Daryl did, standing aside as he turned to look back at the others. "When I split off from Sasha and Abraham, he was out there in those woods. In that burned-out forest with them girls, put a gun to my head. Tied me up like a damn animal! I even tried to help him."

With that, he turned and started deeper into the woods, and I started after him. "Cheyenne," Bucky said. I paused, not turning to look at him. "Stay. Please."

"I can't," I said, shaking my head.

"So you think it's your fault?" Glenn barked after us.

Daryl turned back to him, the two standing toe-to-toe. "Yeah, I know it is. I'm gonna go do what I shoulda done before."

"What, for her?" Glenn called. "She's gone, man. You're doing this for you."

"Man, I don't give a shit," Daryl said.

"Daryl!" Glenn cries, taking his arm to make him stop. He stepped in front of Daryl and I, keeping up from going the way we wanted to go. "We need to get back there and figure this out from home. Our home. We need you, and everyone back there needs us right now. It's―it's gonna go wrong out here."

"We'll square it," Michonne tried, stepping beside Glenn. "I will. I promise you. Just come back."

"I can't," Daryl finally said, pulling his arm free.

"Daryl!" Glenn cried.

"Man, I can't! Clary!"

I ran up beside him, only pausing when I heard Rosita say, "I can't either."

I waited for Rosita to catch up to us, and Bucky followed after her, sharing a look with Daryl. "Clary, just head back with them," Bucky pleaded.

"I can't," I echoed.

"I'm not asking. Go with them."

"James…"

Bucky frowned, then took my arm, inhibiting me from turning and walking away. In Russian, he said, " _You're going back with them. No exceptions."_

With that, I shut my mouth, stepping back with Glenn and Michonne. They looked at me in confusion, then Bucky nodded to them before taking off to catch up with Daryl and Rosita. "They're gonna get themselves killed," I whispered.

"We're going back," Glenn said firmly. "And you're coming with us. You're not going after them."

* * *

 **Michonne**

Much to my surprise, Clary went with us without a fight. Glenn and I let her lead the way back, and I dropped back to walk beside Glenn. "You'd think she would've put up more of a fight," I whispered to him.

"It was what Bucky said," Glenn replied. "In Russian. He must've ordered her to go with us."

"Of course. She was trained to respond to orders in Russian."

We went back into a silence for about a minute as we continued walking, Glenn breaking it by saying, "Those men, they could be back in Alexandria right now."

"If they are, they're dead," I said.

"I hope not."

"Yeah," Clary agreed, and I looked ahead at her. "So I can kill 'em myself."

"No," Glenn argued. "We need them alive. We need to find out more."

"Yeah, we do," I agreed.

Glenn sighed, stopping before we crossed a stream. "We just got stuck with each other. We were lucky. We figured it all out together. It felt like we did. After everything, we did." He shook his head. "World's not what we thought it was. Hilltop, the Saviors, it's bigger."

In the distance, a whistle rang out, and Clary pushed between us, aiming her gun in the direction it came from. To our right, someone echoed the whistle like a mockingbird. As I scanned the forest, I realized we were completely surrounded by these men, outnumbered five to one. "It's them," Clary growled, then called, "Where are you, you son of a bitch?! Come on out, Dwight! I wanna see your face when I end you life!"

To our left, a laugh rang out. "There's the fire!"

"How's your dick, asshat? I really hope Eugene didn't hurt the only thing smaller than your IQ."

"Now, that's not too nice." We turned as a blonde man, Dwight, stepped out from behind a tree, gun raised. He grinned, saying, "Hi. How's life treatin' ya, sweetheart?"

Clary aimed her gun towards Dwight, and the Saviors shifted most of their guns to her. _So he's their leader,_ I thought, noticing how not as many guns were on her before she aimed at Dwight.

"Clary," Glenn hissed, lowering his gun as he realized we were beaten. "Put it down. You fire, you're gonna get us all killed. You're not alone, on a _mission by yourself._ We're here, and if you fire, you may as well be pulling the trigger on the bullet that kills us yourself. And I know you wouldn't do that. You might not remember us, but there was a time when you would've died before you endangered one of us. Before you put _me_ in danger. And if you fire, you're doing the one thing you would _never_ do. You're killing your family. So put the gun _down._ "

"I don't know you," Clary replied, refusing to lower her weapon. "And you don't know me. Not anymore. _Itak, kto dayet der'mo?"_

It was then that I realized that Clary was still in her Executioner mode, like Bucky occasionally slipped into the Winter Soldier when he got pissed or when we were in intense, threatening situations. Like when that Savior rode out of the compound on Daryl's bike, his alter ego was shown. I suddenly remembered that time on the road, the night before Terminus, where Clary shouted "Sputnik" to deactivate the Winter Soldier. I knew I had to deactivate her somehow, someway. I didn't know if the codeword was the same or not, but I had to try. "Sputnik!" I cried.

Glenn looked at me, then his eyes widened as he realized what I was doing. He cried, "Laika!"

My mind went blank, unable to think of anything else involved with Russia. I looked to him, shaking my head, as neither of the words we tried worked. I noticed everyone was aiming at Clary, getting ready to fire. Glenn closed his eyes, thinking quick, then opened them as he shouted, "Kremlin!"

It did the trick.

* * *

 **Rick**

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the walker in the field ahead of Morgan and I, thinking that it was Carol. Thinking that one of my family had been turned, with no one around to put them down. The walker turned as we got closer, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the walker's face. "It's not her," I said.

Morgan used his bo staff, bludgeoning the walker, and she fell. We knelt beside her, seeing that whoever this was before, she died because her throat was slit. "She couldn't have been dead more than a day," Morgan guessed.

I looked up at creaking from the barn at the crest of the hill, and started towards it, gun raised in preperation for anything. I stepped over a dead walker, then watched as a man stuck a spear in the head of a second. I raised my gun in case he was an unfriendly, as Clint called them, calling, "Hey!"

"Whoa!" he cried, seeing me, and ducked behind the side of the barn, then inside, where I couldn't fire. "It's okay! I'm not trouble! I don't want any trouble!"

"Come out!" I called, moving forward with Morgan flanking me. "Drop your weapons!"

"I can't do that," the man, who I noticed had some kind of armor, called. "The wasted are too close. I'm just looking for my horse. Have you seen him?"

"No," Morgan called. "We're looking for our friend. Have you seen her?"

The armored man didn't answer, so I repeated, "Have you seen her?"

"They're coming!" he called as walkers appear. "Just go! Just go!"

Once the group of about half a dozen were past the door, heading towards us, he made a break for it. I fired after him, but Morgan pushed me, making me miss the armored man. I did manage to hit a walker, taking it out. I holstered my gun, drawing my knife as Morgan and I moved forward to take out the remaining walkers. I turned as I heard Morgan cry out, only to see one on his back. I ran to him, driving my knife into the walker's head and pulling it off of him. "You bit?" I questioned.

"I'm good," he replied, giving me a nod of thanks. He started after me as I walked forward, going to take the spear. "Rick. We didn't know who he was."

I pulled the spear out of the walker's head, studying it for a moment before announcing, "It's one of the Hilltop's. Like the one on the road. Maybe he's one of them. Maybe he's looking for Carol, too."

"Maybe the man is just looking for a horse," Morgan argued. "Maybe he is from Hilltop. Maybe he's from somewhere else."

I shook my head, looking over at him. "I don't take chances." I threw the spear down. "Not anymore."

Morgan started forward, in the direction the man ran, then paused, turning to look back at me. "Those people… the Wolves… after they attacked, I found one of them. He had attacked me on the road before, when I was trying to find you. And I stopped him. But I let him live. And then he was there in Alexandria after the attack, hiding in one of the brownstones, so I stopped him again. I knocked him out and I could've killed him. But all life is precious." I sighed, wondering how long it'll be before Morgan realized that maybe not _all_ life is precious. That we have to kill in order to survive. "I put him in the cell of the brownstone basement. 'Cause I knew he could change. We all can change."

 _We're not too far gone._

My own words rang in my ears as he said that, and I realized that once, I was naive like him. I once believed that people could change, that we didn't have to kill anyone. And then I watched the man I said that to kill one of my friends. Kill some of my people. And then he was killed, the conflict ended, by the person I once kicked out. But if she did that again, if she killed one of ours once more, I wouldn't kick her out again. I couldn't. She kept us alive, even if it was in a way that I didn't approve, she kept us alive, at least for one more day. In killing Karen, in killing David, they saved us, and I repaid them by telling them to leave and not come back. I severed the trust Clary had in me, but she still followed me. While Carol forgave and tried to forget, Clary resented and remembered.

 _You failed to see the devil beside you, Rick._

Was I failing to see him again then? The stupid things that Morgan did, were they for him, or were they for the good of our people? Was it because of his stupid ass, no one has to die, beliefs, or was he trying to do things for the good of our people? But the things that he's done, no matter what side it was for, he endangered us.

"You had one of them alive, in the community?" I questioned.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "And when the walls came down and the walkers broke in, Carol found out, we fought and that man escaped, and Denise… she had come to the cell to try and help him and he took her hostage. And then she and that Wolf, they got swarmed, and that man, that killer, he saved her life. And then Denise was there to save Carl. It's all a circle. Everything gets a return. But the fact is the fact. I did what I did. I let him live." I didn't look at him as he steps closer, processing everything he said. "You go home, Rick." I lifted my eyes up, meeting his. "You take the car. You're needed back there. You shouldn't be out here taking any more chances."

"I'm not leaving," I argued. "Carol's still out here."

"And I will find her," Morgan promised. "Somehow. You go."

He turned to leave, and I said, "You're coming back."

He nodded. "Yeah. But if I don't, don't come looking."

"Hey," I said, and he stopped. I held up the gun I picked up from the road. "Take it."

"No, I—"

"Take it," I repeated. "You never know if you'll need it. Hydra, Saviors, walkers." He took the gun, and turned to leave. "Morgan." He turned back to look at me. "Michonne did steal that protein bar."

He grinned. "Oh, I know."

We went our separate ways, Morgan continuing the search, while I started back for Alexandria. Back to the people that needed me there.

* * *

 **Enid**

Maggie smiled softly as she looked at her newly cut hair in the mirror, brushing her short bangs out of her face. I told her, "I like it. But why?"

"I have to keep going," she answered. "And I don't want anything getting in my way."

She looked at it from the side, sighing. "Did I cut it too short?" I questioned, worrying she didn't like it. "I only used to cut my dad's."

Maggie bowed her head, taking a deep breath. "No, it's not that."

"Maggie?" I questioned, noticing how she looked uncomfortable. She suddenly dropped the mirror to the table, crying out in pain. "Maggie!"

Something was horribly wrong, and when I noticed how she was clutching her stomach, I knew it had something to do with the baby.

* * *

 **Clary**

When I woke, my hands were tied behind my back, on the ground between Glenn and Michonne. I sat up, trying to shake the pain from my head. I must've hit it when Glenn used my shutdown phrase, Kremlin. I looked over at Glenn, and suddenly remembered an empty room, the walls made of some kind of metal. I remembered a table, being tied to a chair after being beaten. I remembered Bucky, how he ran into the room and saved not only me, but Glenn and Maggie as well. I remembered Bucky getting me out of a warehouse, running into a different, younger version of our group. And as terrified as I was of doing so, in case they would wipe me again, I remembered Daryl. Everything about him, from my childhood up until the day Hydra took me. I remembered all of it, everything Hydra had made me forget, because I hit my head. _Cognitive recalibration_ , Natasha called it.

I leaned into Glenn, suddenly terrified of it all. It was an overload of information, everything that's happened in my life coming back to me at once. Glenn looked down at me as I rested my head on his shoulder, then used his nose to nudge my head, seeing as that was all he could do being gagged and bound.

I lifted my head from his shoulder as I heard leaves rustling in the woods, thinking it was just the wind for a moment before I saw Daryl. I immediately shook my head at him, trying to tell him to just get away. Instead, he moved forwards, eyes trained on the three of us being held hostage. I shook my head, a bit more frantically, and Daryl raised a finger to his lips, silently telling us to be quiet. _Ah, yes, Daryl. Tell the people who are gagged to be quiet._ By then, Michonne and Glenn had spotted Daryl, trying to communicate the same thing to him. "Run," Glenn tried to tell him, but it was muffled through his gag.

"Daryl!" I tried to shout, but like Glenn, it was muffled. "Daryl, don't!"

Then, I saw Dwight appear behind Daryl, gun raised, and I knew we were all fucked at that point. They weren't getting out, not running away to go get help. A few feet to Daryl's left, I saw Rosita, and then Bucky a couple more feet away. Saviors appeared behind them, aiming guns at them as well. "Hi, Daryl," Dwight said.

The gunshot echoed, but so did the terrified scream that ripped past the gag in my mouth as Daryl's body hit the ground.

"You'll be alright."


	14. My Dear Executioner

**Chapter 13: ...My Dear Executioner**

 **Clary**

Let me make one thing clear about my actions tonight: I should've known better than to believe Negan. He might keep his word, but the two-faced son of a whorebag will lie through his teeth just as many times. I learned that the hard way.

The Savior behind the wheel of the van we were all thrown into the back of was anything but gentle, hitting apparently every bump in the road so we'd be knocked into each other or into the side of the van. At one point, Daryl's right shoulder, the one Dwight shot, hit the side of the van. He let out a yelp of pain, which caused the guys up front to laugh at him. Bucky had to hold me down, locking his metal arm in place around my waist. "You remembered, didn't you?" he whispered. "Everything, I'm guessing."

"Laugh again, you sorry shits!" I shouted up at the Saviors. Dwight simply raised his hand, flipping me off. "Go fuck a goat, you dickless wonder!"

"Someone get her a gag," Dwight sighed.

"We're almost there," the Savior behind the wheel replied. "In fact, we are here."

"Where the hell are we?" Bucky demanded.

"Welcome," Dwight said, turning to look back at us, "to your new future."

* * *

 **Rick**

"Any change?" Sasha called as I carried fuel to the RV.

"She's getting worse," I regretfully told them.

"Good call on the transport," Abraham complemented, stopping by the door with Sasha at his side.

"I figured she'd be more comfortable."

"Also means you got room for more. They're out there, so I'm gonna be there with you." He glanced over at Sasha. "We are."

"Package deal," she added, leading Abraham into the RV.

"Uh, what she said," Eugene told me as I noticed him behind the duo.

"Look, it's a long trip," I said. "And you're just getting over—"

"It's a superficial graze," he argued. "Proteins are binding, plus we need to discuss ammunition production and manufacture, so let's roll."

"Steve and I already tried," Abraham told me, climbing out of the RV to grab a bag. "Give him an inch, he takes it a mile."

"I'm only asking for twenty-three, give or take, depending on the route. I know I could be of some help. Now's the time and here's the place. Don't shine me. I'll be your anchorman. Yes, I damn will."

With that, he climbed into the RV, not giving me time to argue.

* * *

 **Carl**

"Glenn's still not back," Enid tried as she followed me into the armory. "I need to be there for Maggie."

"I said no, Enid!" I replied, putting whatever guns and ammo we need into a bag.

"Carl."

"Look, you were wrong before. This place isn't too big to protect. And you need to stay back and help protect it."

"This place is ready. Most of us have been trained, you know that. If you were worried about an attack, you wouldn't be leaving."

"You know how far the Hilltop is? You know what could happen? Those Saviors are out there. You know what they did to Denise. What they tried to do with Maggie and Carol, to Clary, to Daryl, to Rosita, Eugene. That's not happening to you, alright? I'm not gonna let it."

Enid quieted down, watching me as I loaded my gun, then said, "You want to run into them right? You hope they show up. Jesus, Carl, this is about getting Maggie to a doctor! Not about your damn grudge match against them! Screw you, I'm going."

"Enid, stop!" I barked, moving to block her. "Just wait."

"Get out of my way. Carl!"

I didn't budge, but I did think of a way to keep her from going. "Just grab some pistols from the closet," I told her. "But hurry. We've gotta go now."

Enid ran for the closet, and as soon as she was in, I slammed the door shut, using a chair to keep it closed. "Carl!" Enid shouted from inside. "Dammit! Carl! Carl! What happens if you don't come back? How am I supposed to live with that? What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Just survive somehow," I said, remembering the words she wrote on the paper she slid under my door, her way of saying goodbye after the Wolves. I walked out, trying to ignore the banging on the door as she tried to get out. I headed towards the RV, hearing Aaron and my father before I reached them. "We're ready to protect this place, and the Saviors know it," Aaron said. "That's why they grabbed Eugene."

"It's not up for discussion," my dad told him.

"Then you're just gonna have to punch me in the face and tie me up again. 'Cause that's what it's gonna take to stop me."

My dad sighed, giving in, and nodded Aaron on. He climbed into the RV, and I followed him in. I took a seat at the table, watching out the door as Steve arrived, his shield on his back as usual. "Abraham said you were coming," my dad said.

"You could use the muscle," Steve replied. "The Saviors are still out there. There's more of our people out there. Bucky, Clary, Glenn, Daryl. Michonne, Rosita. We gotta find 'em."

Rick jerked his head towards the door, signalling for Steve to go ahead in. He took a seat at the table across from me, quietly saying, "I could be wrong."

"What?" I questioned.

"About it being the Saviors. Hydra's hard to defeat. There might be more. They might've found them. Bucky and Clary might be back with them, not themselves anymore. We have to be ready."

"How? They're supersoldier assassins."

Steve reached into his bag, pulling out a black leather bound notebook with a red star, and a red leather bound notebook with a black star. "I know that book," I said, picking up the red one. "It's Clary's."

"Kind of," Steve replied. "It's actually about Bucky. He just gave it to her. Same with the black one. It's hers, but Bucky's in possession of it. That has everything you need to know about the Winter Soldier in it. And this..." Steve held up the black one, "is all about the Executioner."

"Steve… I can't look at that." I pushed the two books back towards him. "I can't think about what they did to her."

"Okay," Steve said, taking them back. "You don't have to. But if you realize that's not them, you have to do something. They both have shut down phrases. It's a word that basically knocks them out and they go back to who they are. You can't fight them, so you have to use them."

"You gonna tell me what they are?"

"Bucky's word is Sputnik. Kremlin is Clary's. Got that?"

"Bucky, Sputnik. Clary, Kremlin. Yeah."

I looked back towards the door as Steve flipped open the two notebooks, reading through them. I watched as Father Gabriel arrived, a rifle on his shoulder, to report, "We have twenty-four hour shifts set up on each of the watchtowers, each one of them fully supplied and ready. In the case that we're incurred upon, we have drivers assigned, evacuation and distraction, and the rendezvous we discussed. In the event of any emergency, my first priority is Judith. I will not fail you. Are you comfortable leaving me in charge of Alexandria's defense?"

My dad chuckled. "Yes."

"Hey, Rick," Spencer said, stopping my father before he could climb in the RV. "If the Saviors do show up… I don't know, I'm thinking, if it's not too late, should we try and make some kind of deal?"

"Tell them to wait for me," my dad said. "I got a deal for 'em." He climbed in the RV, closing the door behind him. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

"What the bitch?" Abraham exclaimed from the driver's seat, and we all stood as he slowed to a stop, looking to see what's in front.

"What is it?" my dad asked, pushing through us.

"Enemy close," Abraham answered. "Are we doing this?"

"No. We're getting out to talk."

We grabbed our weapons, but we didn't raise them as we followed my dad out of the RV. I looked over at Steve as we walked to find that his shield was on his arm. _He's anticipating a fight_ , I realized. I stood next to Aaron as my dad stepped forward, his hands raised to show he wasn't looking for a fight. One of the men, probably a Savior, gestured down to a man lying on the ground below him. "He's someone who was with a whole lot of someones who didn't listen," the Savior called.

"We can make a deal," Rick called. "Right here, right now."

"That's right. We can. Give us all your stuff."

"Not this shit again," Abraham huffed under his breath.

"We'll probably have to kill one of you. That's just the way it is, but then we can start moving forward onto business." I tightened my grip on my gun, but I still didn't raise it, watching for the go-ahead from Dad. "All you have to do is listen."

"Yeah," he sighed, moving his hands to the machine gun he carried. "That deal's not gonna work for us. Fact is, I was about to ask for all of your stuff. Only I'm thinkin' I don't have to kill any of you. Any _more_ of you, that is."

The Savior standing next to the head of this group made a show of shaking up a spray paint can, then painting an X onto the someone that wouldn't listen. The lead Savior sighed, saying, "Sorry, my deal is the only deal. We don't negotiate."

Rick nodded once, then waved his hand, telling us to go. "Me and my people are leaving."

"Okay, friend. Plenty of ways to get to where you're going."

Rick followed us to RV, then paused at the door, turning back to the Saviors. He called, "You want to make today your last day on earth?"

"No, but that is a good thing to bring up. Think about it. What if it's the last day on earth for you? For someone you love? What if that's true? Maybe you should be extra nice to those people in that RV, 'cause you never know." The Savior snapped his fingers. "Just like that. Be kind to each other. Like you said, like it was your last day on earth."

"You do the same," my dad told them, then climbed in, closing the door behind him.

 _For someone you love._

I didn't expect the words to hit me as hard as they did, but when they hit, she was the only thing I could think about. What Steve said about her being under Hydra's control again was all I could think about. In the days she was back in Alexandria, I saw what it did to her when she remembered Hydra. I saw the aftermath of all they put her through, and I never wanted her to have to go through that again. And at that moment, I thought she might have to. I thought I wouldn't see her again, and if I did, she'd either be the killer she wasn't or she'd be among the dead. I didn't know where the hell she was, I didn't know if she was alive, and that scared the hell out of me. _God, Clary, where are you? Please, don't let today be your last day on earth._

* * *

 **Clary**

As the door to the van we were being kept in opened, I saw that Dwight was standing there, wearing Daryl's vest and had his crossbow over his shoulder. I moved in front of Daryl, as if I could do something to block Dwight from hurting him any more. I felt Daryl's hand on my back, and I reached behind me, taking it. I gave it a gentle squeeze, murmuring, "It's okay, Daryl. It's gonna be okay."

Dwight looked from Bucky to me. "Alright, you two. You get to meet the big man first."

"Bucky?" I whispered, reaching beside me for his hand. More Saviors appeared, dragging us out of the van, while Dwight aimed Daryl's crossbow at our friends remaining in the van. As soon as we were out, they closed the doors again. Guns were prodded in our backs as we were marched to the back of one of the trucks, and Dwight forced us to kneel. Bucky and I looked at each other, then back to Dwight, giving him matching death glares. "It's called respect for the boss," Dwight snapped. "Learn it, live it, love it."

"Come any closer to me and I'll bite what's left of your dick off," I replied. Dwight narrowed his eyes at me, taking a step closer, and I bared my teeth. "I ain't lyin', dickless."

There was a laugh from inside the truck. It was one that would've belonged to a happy person before all of this, a laugh with humor. Now, it was empty. A humorless laugh, a dark chuckle. Once again, I found myself reaching for Bucky's hand. His hand wrapped around mine as soon as they touched, and it was then that I knew that Bucky was just as scared as I was.

The truck door opened, and a tall man in his late forties or early fifties stepped out. His hair was dark like his eyes, his beard salt and peppered. He wore a leather jacket, and as I looked him up and down, I noticed a baseball bat over one shoulder. I tightened my grip on Bucky's hand as I saw the barbed wire at the end. It made me wonder, what kind of a man is this if he carries a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire? It wouldn't do much with the walkers. It'd get caught in their hair, if anything. _And walkers can't feel pain._ The barbed wire, that was for a living person. I look up at Dwight, studying the burn on the side of his face. Daryl told me that it wasn't like that the last time they met, in the burned forest. _What kind of man is this?_

"Well, well, well," the man drawled out. "What do we have here?" He looked Bucky and I over, taking in our appearances, especially our arms. "My, my, my. Dwighty boy, you did good." He gestured towards Bucky. "You, I've heard of. The Winter Soldier, right? What you did in Vienna, that's impressive. But you…" He crouched in front of me. "You, I don't know. But judging by the arm, you're like him. What do they call you?"

"The Executioner," I said, dropping Bucky's hand as I lifted my chin, looking this man in the eye. I wasn't about to let him know I was terrified.

"The Executioner," he repeated. "I like it. Very… intimidating." He stood, stepping back as he looked down at Bucky and I. "Now… what am I forgetting? Oh, right! Introductions. Hi, I'm Negan. These are my men, the Saviors. And this…" Negan gestured to the bat on his shoulder. "This is Lucille."

"What do you want with us?" Bucky asked.

"Leave us," Negan ordered, and the Saviors turned to leave. Negan stepped back, sitting on the truck's tailgate. "You two can stand." Bucky and I stood, Bucky taking a step closer to me. "What's your name, Soldier? Your real name?"

"Bucky Barnes," he answered. "This is Clary Dixon."

"Well, Bucky, I'm glad you asked that. What do I want? I want you to work for me. And not in the same way your people will. They're going to gather, give me half of their shit. But you two, oh boy, do I have a job for you. I have my Saviors, and I have my lieutenants, but the one thing that I don't have? Mercenaries. And that's where you two come in. Supersoldier assassins, am I right?" Negan looked down at me. "Though you didn't bulk up like Captain America."

"Formula was different," I said. "But don't think that I ain't as strong as Bucky."

Negan's eyes drifted to my arm. "I'd bet you are." He swung his legs, looking at the two of us. "Like I said, I want you to work for me as mercenaries. 'Cause this world's a lot bigger than what you think it is. We've got some enemies, and I don't mean the dead. So, I'll give you two options. Do it the easy way, and do it voluntarily. Or you can fight me on it, and you'll still end up working for me."

Bucky took another step to the right, partially standing in front of me now. "My god," he said. "You're no better than Hydra. We won't do it. I'll die before I let anything happen to her."

Negan sighed, sliding off the tailgate. He left Lucille lying on it, instead pulling his gun out of its holster. "I can do that," he said with a shrug. "I mean, I don't really want to, but I can most definitely do that."

He raised his gun, aiming it directly at Bucky. I wasn't about to let Bucky be shot that day, or ever. Of course, I'm always willing to take a bullet for Buck, so I didn't hesitate to step in. I pushed Bucky to the ground, standing alone in front of Negan. I said, "You let my people go, I'll do it. Just me. Not Bucky. He's done his time. Seventy years, he's served. He goes free, and the others go free, too. You let them make it back to our home, _safely._ And the Executioner will work for you. Whatever you want."

Negan grinned wickedly, knowing he'd won. He said, "It's getting late. It'll be dark soon. Your people won't make it home before the sun sets. They have to get home safe, right? It's dangerous at night. So we'll let them go tomorrow. But tonight, you start working for me." Negan nodded towards Bucky. "Say your goodbyes, Soldier. She's going off to war."

Bucky didn't hesitate to get to his feet, wrapping his arms around me so tight I thought for a moment that he was going to break me. However, that didn't stop me from mirroring him. I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing my eyes shut as I breathed in his familiar scent. The leather from his jacket was there, and the ever present hint of metal from his arm. I don't know how else to describe it, but you know how different places smell different depending on the time of day? He reminded me of the woods at night, when a lot of people are too scared to go, but some feel safe. Bucky smells like safety, especially to me. He was home, and I didn't want to leave home again. That's why I instantly regretted my decision when I heard Bucky starting to cry.

"Hey, please don't," I whispered. I threaded my fingers through his hair, remembering how that used to calm him down when he was upset or scared. "It's gonna be okay, James. It'll be okay."

Finally, Bucky hissed, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I couldn't see you like that again," I replied. "Go back with the others. Take care of them. Take care of Daryl."

"Don't leave me again," Bucky whispered. He released me, leaning back to look down at me; and I saw that his tears were rolling down his cheeks. I leaned up, wiping them away and kissing the spots where they were, as I fought tears of my own.

I made the split second decision, deciding that it would be easier on the others. "Bucky," I said, looking up at him. "The others, it's going to be hard on them seeing me working against them. That's why I have to ask you to do it. Say the words. Please."

"The words?" Bucky questioned.

"Don't bullshit me, Bucky. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Clary… I can't."

"James, please. I don't want this blood on my conscience. I want it on the Executioner's. And then I want you to tell me to follow Negan's commands." I took a couple steps back. "And one last thing. Tell the others I'm sorry."

Bucky closed his eyes, looking down, before taking a deep breath. "Okay."

"Thank you," I breathed.

I closed my eyes, letting my mind go blank like it was when they wiped me. Just like I said his activation words that one night, he said mine, in Russian as well. "Longing, rusted, sixteen, nightfall, furnace, nine, loyal, homecoming, seven… undead."

With each word, I could feel the Executioner rising, pushing me back. And when he said the final word, I was gone, and she was in my place. It was odd, it was the Executioner in control, but I still remembered everything that happened. Like some transformation of Jekyll to Hyde. I guess what's what happens when you activate the Winter Soldier or the Executioner without wiping us first. _Clary's no more. It's only the Executioner._ I opened my eyes, slowly looking up at him.

Bucky asked, " _Palach?"_

"Ready to comply," I responded in the language.

"Listen to me. If you're ordered to do something that you think is wrong in any way, you don't have to do it. Got it?"

"That… that's not the rules."

"They are now," Bucky said, speaking English now. "Those are the rules. You do what Negan says. And remember what I told you." He turned to Negan. "She's all yours."

Negan whistled, and Dwight and his men reappeared, seemingly out of nowhere. I watched as Bucky was escorted away, back to the van we came here in. "Executioner," Negan said, gesturing me over to him. "Your real name's Clary, right?" I nodded once. "You were with Hydra?" I nodded again. "How long?"

"Three months ago, I was out on a run. I was bitten." I lifted my right arm. "It's how I lost it. Some men from Hydra, they saved me, cut it off. I was already trained, thanks to the Winter Soldier. As soon as I recovered, they had me killing for them. So three months, I killed for them."

"How many people have you killed?"

"I lost track," I answered. "I don't know how many there were before Hydra. I stopped counting after thirty with them. They had me hit camps, groups that didn't want to work with them. Or were a threat."

Negan laughed, "You are gonna be _fantastic_ working for me." He slung an arm around my shoulders, Lucille in his free hand. Negan turned me towards the horizon, watching as the sun set. "Good evening, my dear Executioner."

* * *

 **Carl**

I leaned against the wall at Maggie's feet, looking through the blinds as I scanned our surroundings for walkers or Saviors. Or Hydra. I shuddered at the thought of the Nazi organization, praying that when my dad and the others rescued Clary, they eradicated them. I looked back at Aaron, who knelt next to Maggie. I asked, "Why didn't you help guard the place?"

"I owe her," Aaron said, looking down at Maggie. She fitfully slept, letting out whimpers every now and then. Aaron looked back at me. "What about you? Why are you here?"

"I owe them," I said, taking a seat by Maggie's feet. "I've been shot before. Maggie… her dad, Hershel, saved my life. I owe her." I looked down at my hands, then back to Aaron. "And Clary's out here. Steve thinks that Hydra might still be around. They're hard to take out. I don't know who it is, but whoever's out there, they might have Clary. She doesn't have a sense of who she is anymore. She doesn't remember how much she means to us. That's how she fought before. She fought so she'd make it back home to us. To me. She doesn't have that anymore. Adding in a fight to the mix… I'm worried she won't make it back."

"She'll be back," Aaron assured me. "She has to be. She knows we need her there. She knows we can't go on without her." He looked up at me. "She'll remember. One day, maybe not today or anytime soon, but one day, she'll know who she is. That's all you can hope for. That's all we can hope for. Clary's a fighter, a leader. We need someone like her with us."

"I don't think she's a leader, not anymore," I said with a shake of my head. "Before Hydra, hell yeah. I'd follow her anywhere, and I still would. But after all they did, Clary's not a leader anymore. They trained her to be submissive, to do whatever they told her to do. She can't lead anymore."

"Soldiers can lead," Aaron said. "They can. She can. She will."

"I hope so," I said with a small smile.

From the front of the RV, I heard Eugene say, "Logrun Road's a straight shot."

"We want visibility," Steve told him. "In enemy territory, you always want visibility."

"There, you got it on Shelton. Golf course, country clubs, sloping terrain. No bum rush from the boogeyman. We'd see them from a good piece. It is a longer trip by a third, but we'd get the scenic safety of clear-cut dingles and glens."

"You're being serious, right?" Sasha questioned.

"As coronary thrombosis."

"You got a route?" Dad asked. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

 **Rick**

"Bitch nuts!" Abraham exclaimed as he pulled the RV to a stop yet again. I pushed through the others, leaning down to look out the windshield. To our right, more Saviors blocked the road. The left was clear, and we knew we couldn't go back. We came too far, and Maggie was getting worse. She needed help.

"Are we making our stand?" Sasha inquired.

Steve said, "Good a place as any."

"Yeah," Carl agreed. "We should end it."

"No," I argued. "Not now. They've been waiting. They're ready. With one of us behind the wheel, that's six on… sixteen, looks like. We're gonna play it our way, how we want it." I glanced back at Carl and Steve, who grew close in the time that passed since we thought Clary died. "Right?"

"Right," my son said. "But how do we know they're not corralling us? Like Terminus?"

I paused. "We don't. We just need to find another way around. Abe, go slow."

He slowly backed up a bit, then pulled the RV around, taking a left. We watched out the side windows, guns raised, as one of the Saviors fired three series of shots into trees. We continued on, and after a while, I moved back up between Sasha and Abraham. "How are we on gas?" I questioned.

"Half a tank," Abraham replied. "I pulled some more cans before we left."

"Those weren't the same men who blocked the road the first time," Sasha said.

"It's the same outfit, just different soldiers," Steve piped up. "They've got numbers."

I nodded, showing I understood. "We keep driving. We get her there."

"We will," Sasha confirmed.

Abraham added, "If we have to shove each and every one of them up their own asses."

He cursed under his breath as he pulled to a stop yet again, this time the road's blocked by a string of walkers, chained together. "We can't go through it," I said. "Can't risk the RV. You stay behind the wheel, just in case. We'll clear it."

We filed out of the RV, guns raised, and Abraham stayed inside, behind the wheel. As we made our way forward, to the walkers, Eugene said, "Putting together a red rover like that takes people. A lot of them."

"C'mon," I said. "Let's do this."

"Dad," Carl said, stopping me as I stepped up to face a walker with a familiar dread in its hair.

"That's Michonne's," Aaron added.

"That's one of the Dixons'," Sasha added, gesturing to a walker with arrows with green and white fletching. I reached up to pull the dread out, then moved to kill the walker with my hatchet, but gunfire rang out, and we all ducked down. "Get back to the RV!" I barked. "Go!"

They didn't listen, instead firing on the Saviors. They covered me as I chopped the walker's arm off, making a path to allow us through. As soon as I had the wall of walkers broken, I turned and ran, following the others back into the RV. The Saviors stopped firing, allowing us to pass. Steve and Carl sat at the table with Eugene and Sasha, staring down at the arrow on the table before him. "They have her," Carl said.

"They have them," Steve added.

"The corralling, it was getting us to those walkers."

"All to show us that they have them."

No one tried to argue, knowing that Carl and Steve were right. "What's that sound?" Sasha inquired, referring to the squealing from the RV.

"Undercarriage could've caught a bullet," Eugene said. "Or could be transmission. Could be nothing."

"They were firing at our feet," I said. "They blocked the road, but they weren't trying to stop us. They want us in this direction."

"Barton Road takes us north, but they gotta know we wanna go north," Sasha told us.

"Meadows," Eugene proposed. "Takes us east a piece but we can get back on track at Mayhew."

"We're down to a third of a tank. We could top off at the next stop, but no refills after that."

I nodded my approval, and Aaron pushed past them. "Rick, she's burning up," he said.

"Rick!" Abraham called, and I moved up as he brought the RV to a stop. This time, more Saviors blocked the road, more than ever before. Nearly three dozen, easy. And that was just the ones we could see.

"Go back," I ordered.

"Where? There's nowhere left to run."

* * *

 **Morgan**

I only found her again because of the gunshot. The first time I found her, it was an accident. I found the man's horse, and I found Carol outside a library, a stab wound in her side. I did what I could, but she needed stitches. Then, when I went to take care of a walker making a lot of noise, she left. I continued on, trying to find her. Then, I heard a gunshot, and, wondering if it was her, I took off towards it. As I neared the origin of the gunshot, I heard another one, followed by a faint scream. I was close, but still not there. As I neared a building, a woman's voice that I recognized as Carol's called, "What, are you done? Unless you kill me now, I'm not gonna die! You decide! The world doesn't decide! You do! You don't get to walk away and get what you want!"

I jumped down from my horse as a man, one that was walking away, turned around, raising his gun on Carol, who lied on the ground. "Stop," I commanded, raising the gun Rick gave me. "Drop it. You can survive this. You can. Drop it. Please."

"No," the man replied, finger moving to the trigger. I fired first, firing to protect my friend. I squeezed the trigger, and I didn't stop until he hit the ground. I dropped down beside Carol, seeing the wound in her leg first, and then her arm. As I applied pressure to her arm, she begged, "Will you please just let me go?"

"Hey, it's not your time," I told her. "You are gonna come back from this."

I turned as I heard a second horse approaching, only to find the man who lost his horse, a second man on a second horse behind him. He raised a hand to show he meant no harm, asking, "What happened here?"

"I found your horse," I told him. "Found my friend, too. She needs help."

The men looked at each other, and the one without the horse said, "Then, let's get you some help."

He held out a hand, which I shook, sealing the deal. These men may have been our saviors, but they're not part of the Saviors.

* * *

 **Rick**

Yet again, we had to stop. This time because of logs blocking the road, and as we got out, we noticed tire tracks on the dirt road. "These tracks," Eugene said. "They would indicate that they not only have people, but some big-ass toys and capabilities."

"What it indicates is that we are neck-deep up shit creek with our mouths wide open," Abraham corrected.

We turned as there was a scream and chains rattling, only to find a man being dropped off the overpass. Aaron aimed his gun as the man, whom I recognized as the same man that wouldn't listen to the Saviors, gagged, clawing at the chain around his neck. "Don't," Abraham ordered.

"I can try and break the chain," Aaron said, not lowering his gun.

"It won't work."

"I can try."

"It won't work," I repeated. "And we need the bullets."

So we stood by, unable to help, as he choked to death. Steve looked down, unable to watch. I thought it was a bit odd, the soldier that served in World War II unable to watch a death. It wasn't until after that I realized that Steve couldn't watch because he swore to protect Americans, as well as the people of the rest of the world, and he was unable to do anything to save this man.

Behind us, the logs suddenly caught fire, and the same Savior from the first group called, "You're treating your people good, right? Like it was your last day on earth? Or maybe one of theirs? You better go. It's gonna get hot. You go get where you're going."

"Go," I commanded, and we rushed back to the RV. As soon as Abraham was behind the wheel, he backed up, away from the burning logs.

As Abraham drove off, Steve said, "I could've done something."

"There was nothing you could do," Carl told him.

"There was. I don't know why I didn't. I could've thrown my shield, broken the chain."

"It's too late now," I said. "And there was nothing you could've done back there. He was already dead. The Saviors would've killed him, one way or another."

On a side road in the woods, Abraham finally pulled to a stop, and we gathered around the table. "What's the play?" Abraham questioned.

"She needs a doctor," I said as I rejoined them after checking on Maggie.

"There are two more routes north from here," Sasha told us.

"They're probably waiting for us right now," Aaron chimed in.

"So they're ahead of us, probably behind us," Eugene said. "But they're not waiting on us, per se. They're waiting on this rust bucket. And they don't know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket. And the sun sets soon."

Once the sun was set, we moved out, putting the rest of the gas into the RV and getting Maggie ready to move. I met Eugene by the door, telling him, "That's the last of it. You see a car, try to siphon some gas, but other than that, keep moving."

Eugene nodded. "I'll have them thinking we're playing their game. All phases of the turn, level after level, move after move, I'll keep them spun. I assure you, I will. I got something for you." He reached in his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. "It's a recipe, and it ain't gazpacho. _How to Build Bullets 101._ " He handed me the paper, telling me, "Abraham can show you where, just it case. Stark knows how. We were working on it together. They know everything you need to know, just in case."

I looked up at him. "Thank you for this. For all of it. We're lucky you're here."

"I won't argue with that," Eugene said, and I had to chuckle at that. I shook his hand, then walked away to allow Abraham speak with his friend.

"You go steady on the pedal," Abraham instructed him. "You don't make that thing gulp."

"How come you never let me drive the truck?" Eugene questioned.

"Quite honestly, I didn't think you could do it. I was wrong. You're a survivor. You always were. We just didn't know it. Me and you both."

Abraham held up a hand for him to shake, but Eugene bypassed it and went for the hug. I stepped inside the RV, helping Aaron get Maggie out on the cot we rigged up for us to carry her on. Eugene stepped over once we were out of the RV, and Maggie looked up at him. "Thank you," she told him.

"Not a problem," he replied, stepping back to allow us to pass.

Steve remained for a moment, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're a brave man, Eugene," he said. "Thank you."

Eugene's smile grew at the compliment from possibly the bravest person alive, Captain America himself, and he watched as we took off into the woods. Carl and Steve acted as our defense, staying in front to take out any walkers, while Abraham and I each took an end, carrying Maggie, and Sasha and Aaron walked on either side. As we continued on, I heard the RV starting behind us, and I hoped like hell the Saviors were stupid enough to fall for it.

* * *

 **Aaron**

"Aaron, please, just let me walk it," Maggie pleaded as we continued through the forest.

"Relax," I told her. "Just a few more miles."

Rick and Steve switched their positions, allowing Rick to walk ahead with Carl. I could hear Carl saying, "I heard what you said when we were leaving. We can do anything, 'cause we'll do anything we need to do. We have and we will. What happened to Denise, I'm not gonna let anybody die like that again."

"Carl," Rick started.

"What?"

Before Rick could answer, however, eerie whistles rang out around us. Immediately, Rick and Steve switched again, allowing Steve to take the lead, as well as command. "Go," he ordered, gesturing with his head in one direction.

We kept going, running as fast as we could without jostling Maggie too much. Steve led the way, Carl, right behind him with his gun drawn, and the rest of us weren't far behind. The whistles kept getting louder, converging on us, and more frequent. We skidded to a halt in a clearing as a light turned on, momentarily blinding us. Steve put up his shield, covering both himself and Carl at the same time. And I knew that if I lived through this, the sound of every Savior whistling together, like the screech of an inhuman creature from a horror movie, would haunt me until the moment I die.

As we realized we were surrounded, we backed into a circle, closing around Maggie. We kept our backs to each other, facing the Saviors on every side. Dozens of men, all armed, surround us. Some grinned maliciously, some remained expressionless. Where the light came from, I saw Eugene on his knees, looking terrified and somewhat ashamed.

"Good," the Savior, the first one we met today, said, stepping forward. "You made it. Welcome to where you're going. We'll take your weapons." He aimed his gun at Carl, causing Steve to lift his shield. "Ah, ah." The Savior pulled out a second gun, aiming it at Steve. "Drop them. Now."

Rick, seeing the gun on his son, tried, "We can talk about—"

"We're done talking. Time to listen."

The Saviors moved forward in groups of two, taking our weapons and patting us down. Steve glared at the Savior that took his shield, the way Daryl would glare at anyone that touched his crossbow. The Savior that did all the speaking moved to take Carl's gun, looking down at it. "That's yours, right?" he questioned. He leaned down, looking in Carl's remaining eye. "Yeah, it's yours." He raised his hand, flicking the hat. Carl didn't flinch, didn't do anything, and I wondered if the Savior knew how much of a mistake he made. He straightened, looking around at the rest of us. "Okay. Let's get her down and get you all on your knees. Lots to cover."

Sasha and I moved to take a side, two of the Saviors joining, and Abraham snapped, "Hold it. We got it."

"Let 'em do it," the Savior commanded. We lowered Maggie down, careful not to drop her. Abraham and Rick helped her up, then helping her to her knees. Abraham stayed with her, while Eugene was dragged over and forced to his knees as well. No one else knelt. The Savior told Rick, "We're gonna need you on your knees." Rick shared a look with Steve, silently asking him what to do. I could tell that even after everything, this was one situation where Rick was out of his league, and he needed someone else. Rick looked around at the rest of us before nodding once, silently telling us to comply with the command. "Dwight!"

A blond stepped forward, asking, "Yeah?"

"Chop-chop. Bring 'em out."

We watched as Dwight and a few other Saviors dragged five of the six that left this morning out of a van, forcing them to their knees in the line up. Of them all, Glenn was the one that fought the most, asking, "Maggie?"

"On your knees," Dwight barked.

On my left, I heard Carl whisper, "Where's Clary?"

The youngest Dixon was the only one that wasn't there. She and Bucky left together that morning, so she had to be with him, right? _Unless… No, don't think about that. She's not dead._ My eyes drift to Bucky as he's put on his knees next to Glenn, at the end of the line, and I could see his eyes widen as he saw Steve and the rest of us. He didn't speak, but his lips still formed the words. _You shouldn't be here._

The Savior chuckled, looking us over. "Looks like we got us a full boat. Time to meet the man."

He stepped back, knocking on the side of the RV. A sudden thought came to my head, and I prayed that it wasn't true. _She wouldn't turn on us like that._ As the door opened, I braced myself for two things: to finally meet the big bad we've heard so much about, and to face the ugly truth.

* * *

 **Bucky**

The door of the RV swung open, and the first thing that I saw was the spotlight reflecting off of Clary's arm. She stepped out first, Negan right behind her. The group around me sucked in their breath, a couple of them shaking their heads. They refused to believe that Clary would be there, on Negan's side. They didn't know that it wasn't Clary standing there, but the Executioner in her place. Negan put Lucille on his shoulder, remaining in the shadows, as Clary stepped out of them. Her face was blank, completely void of emotion; but it changed when she saw Carl on his knees and Maggie in pain. _She still remembers us. Oh, shit._ From behind her, Negan questioned, "Pissing our pants yet?" He stepped around her, out into the light, and Clary followed closely behind. "Boy, do I have the feeling we're getting close." He paced the line up, looking down at each of us. As he passed me, he gave me a small smirk. "Yep, it's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon." He stopped near Steve, who was kneeling between Sasha and Aaron. "Now, which one of you pricks is the leader?" He looked down at Steve. "Is it you, Captain America?"

One of the Saviors pointed to Rick. "It's this one," he said. "He's the guy."

Negan stepped away from Steve, stopping in front of Rick. "Hi. You're Rick, right? The Executioner told me about you. I'm Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my men to kill your men for killing my men, you killed more of my men. Not cool. Not fucking cool. You got no fucking idea how not fucking cool that shit is. But I imagine you'll be up to speed shortly, yeah. You are _so_ gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes." He grinned. "Fuck yes, you will. You see, Rick, whatever you do… no matter what… you _do not_ mess with the new world order. The new world order is this, and it's really very simple. So, even if you're fucking stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes. Pay attention." He took Lucille off of his shoulder, placing it right beside Rick's cheek, just enough so the barbed wire was nearly brushing him. Negan went to move the bat, and Rick jerked his his head up, eyes on the Saviors' leader. "Give me your shit, or I will kill you."

"Today was career day," Negan continued, taking Lucille away as he stepped back, looking around at my people. "We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. _That's_ your job. Now, I know that is a mighty fucking big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly motherfucking will." Negan stepped back in front of Rick, looking down at him. "You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even fucking close. In fact, you're fucked. And more fucked if you don't do what I want. And what I want is half of your shit. And if that's too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So if someone knocks on your door… you fucking let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us, we'll fucking knock it the fuck down. Understand?"

Rick didn't speak.

"What, no answer? Well, you didn't really think you were going to get through this without getting punished, did you? I don't want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't very well do that when you're fucking dead, now can you? I'm not growing a garden. But you killed my men. A fucking whole goddamn lot of them, too. More than I'm comfortable with. And for that, you gotta fucking pay. So now… I'm gonna beat the holy fuck fucking fuckedy fuck out of one of you with my bat. Who I call Lucille, for those that don't know. Lucille, as you can see, has barbed wire wrapped around the end of her." Negan laughed. "She's fucking awesome. All of this, it's just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor."

"Executioner," Negan called out in a sing-song tone, and she stepped forward. He turned back to her, holding Lucille out. "Hold her." Clary took the bat, holding it on her shoulder like Negan did. He chuckled, seeing how obedient she was. "I like her. You guys gotta get one of them." He looked back at Rick. "Ooh, that's right. Your Winter Soldier was replaced, and I took the new and improved one. Oh, well. She's mine now." Daryl let out a huff, shifting on his knees, and I shook my head at him. I knew that if he tried anything, he was going to get himself killed doing it; and Negan wouldn't hesitate to make Clary be the one to do it. Negan paced our lineup again, stopping in front of Abraham. The former Sergeant rose on his knees to meet him, not flinching back. Negan chuckled, obviously impressed with either Abraham's bravery or stupidity. Even I didn't know which one it was. "Huh." He rubbed the salt and pepper stubble on his chin. "Ugh, I gotta shave this shit."

Negan made his way over to Carl next, and while he didn't rise like Abraham, Carl didn't flinch away. Steve straightened slightly, not enough to be noticed by Negan but enough that I still caught it. I remembered that he and Carl had bonded over the past couple of months, and he was protective over the boy.

"You got one of our guns," Negan said, kneeling in front of Carl. "You got a lot of our guns, according to my Executioner. Shit, kid. Lighten up. At least cry a little." He got to his feet, stopping by Maggie this time. "Jesus," he drawled out. "You look shitty. Executioner, maybe we should just put her out of her misery right now. What do ya think?"

"No!" Glenn shouted. "No!" Negan turned as Glenn scrambled to his feet, and I reached after him, but he just slipped out of reach right as Dwight knocked him down with a punch. Maggie let out a cry, especially when Dwight aimed Daryl's crossbow at her husband. Negan shook his head, saying, "Nope. Nope. Executioner, get him back in line."

Clary walked over, taking Glenn's arm and dragging him back to the line up. She hissed, "Do that shit again, and I'll have to kill you."

"Alright, listen," Negan said. "Don't any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one's free. It's an emotional moment, I get it." Beside me, Glenn was shaking, nearly in tears. Clary still hadn't moved, was still standing over him, and I realized it was her trying to protect him. I told her that if it felt wrong, don't do it. And she was listening to me. She couldn't outright protect us, but if she could literally stand in Negan's way, it might do the trick. Negan looked down at Rick, who was shaking as much as Glenn, obviously terrified. "Sucks, don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit." Rick's eyes darted towards Carl, who hadn't taken his eye off of Rick. Negan gestured towards Carl. "This is your kid, right?" He laughed. "This is definitely your kid!"

"Just stop this!" Rick barked.

"Hey!" Negan snapped. "Do not make me kill the little future serial killer, not before his story ends. Too fucking interesting. Don't make it easy on me. I've gotta pick somebody, and everybody's at the table waiting for me to order." Negan paced back and forth, looking at each of us in turn. "I simply cannot fucking decide."

We all glanced at each other, thinking for a moment that we were off the hook, before Negan laughed. "I've got an idea. Executioner, get back here. I gotta see everyone."

Clary complied, standing behind Negan with his bat on her shoulder. I noticed how Negan still hadn't taken Lucille back, and I realized in horror that he was going to make her kill whoever he chose. For a single, selfish moment, I thought, _Please, don't let it be me._

Negan pointed to each of us in turn as he said, "Eenie… meenie… miney… mo… Catch… a tiger… by his toe… If… he hollers… let him go… My mother… told me… to pick… the very best one… and… you… are…"

Negan trailed off, making a show to pointing to each of us.

"It."

"Abraham," I whispered, watching as Negan chose the redhead.

"Executioner, get your ass up here," Negan ordered, and Clary stepped forward, taking Lucille off her shoulder as she stood over him. "You know what to do, but wait a second." Negan turned to the rest of us. "Now, a couple of rules before we get started. Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father. And _then_ we'll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that."

Negan turned back to Clary, nodding once. _Go ahead._ She shook, hesitating as she shifted Lucille in her hands.

"Clary," Abraham said, looking up as she stood over him. "Clary, it's alright." He rose on his knees once again, holding his head high. "It was gonna be one of us anyway. Don't hold back, little missy. Never hold back." Abraham turned to Negan. "And you… you can suck my nuts."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sarge," Clary said, then swung. Abraham got back up, not wanting to go out any way but standing proud, even if he was on his knees."I'll see you in another life, brother." She swung again, trying to end it as quickly as possible. "I remembered you."

It was only when Abraham stopped twitching that Clary stopped. Sasha was in tears, Rosita shaking. Hell, we were all shaking, nearing tears. "Did you hear that?" Negan laughed. "He said, 'suck my nuts.'" He put his arm around Clary, looking down at Lucille. "Oh my goodness!" He took the bat from her, swinging it around. Abraham's blood splattered onto Rick's cheek, running down it into his beard. "Look at this! You guys, look at my dirty girl!" Negan leaned down, whispering something in Clary's ear as he gave her back Lucille. Clary stepped over to Rosita, Negan following behind her. "Sweetheart, lay your eyes on this." Clary looked away as she put Lucille in Rosita's face, forcing her to look at the weapon she used to kill the man Rosita loved. Negan looked from Rosita to Abraham's body, noticing how shaken she was. "Oh, damn. Were you… were you together? Executioner, were they together?"

"As far as I know," Clary answered. "I was gone for three months. Shit happens, times change."

"That sucks. But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this." Negan stepped away from Clary, back towards the center of the lineup. "Red, and hell he was, is, and will ever be red. He just took one or six or seven for the team! So _take a damn look._ " Rosita still wouldn't look at the bat. "Alright, that's fine. Executioner, you know what to do."

"You leave her alone!" Daryl shouted, scrambling to his feet. He knocked Lucille out of Clary's hand, knocking her to the ground in his haste, and socking Negan in the jaw. Negan stumbled back with the force of the blow, and Saviors rushed forwards, subduing Daryl before he could swing again. They got him on the ground after the Saviors threw a couple punches, and Clary got to her feet, picking up Lucille. She stood over Daryl, Lucille hovering over him, with Abraham's blood dripping on his face.

Before Clary could speak, Negan pushed around her, snapping, "No! Oh, no." He stepped backwards, putting his hand on Clary's back and pushing her forwards. "Keep him down, Executioner." He looked to Daryl. "That? Oh, my! That is a no-no." He stepped around Clary again, kneeling beside her brother. "The whole thing! Not one bit of that shit flies here."

That's when Dwight ran up, aiming Daryl's crossbow at its previous owner. He asked, "Do you want me to do it? Right here?"

Negan took a fistful of Daryl's hair, studying him for a moment as he continued to struggle against the Savior holding him down. Negan looked back up at Dwight. "No. No, you don't kill them. Not until you try a little." Dwight stood down, and he gave the other two Saviors a hand in dragging Daryl back to his place in line. Negan rose, and Clary dropped back behind him. She looked down, hiding her face in shame from the rest of us. "And anyway… that's not how it works. Now, I already told you people. First one's free. Then what'd I say? I said I would shut that shit down! No exceptions. Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with, but I'm a man of my word." At that phrase, Clary slowly lifted her head. She met my eyes, both of us realizing that this, too, was a lie. "I mean, you can't _always_ keep it, because shit happens. _But_ you can do your damn well best. And first impressions are important. I need you to know me. So… back to it, my dear Executioner." Clary stood to attention, shifting the bloodied Lucille in her hands. "Him."

I turned away from Clary, only to see Negan pointing towards us. For a moment, I thought he was pointed at me. Then, I realized he wasn't. My heart stopped as I realized he was pointing at Glenn, the Korean's eyes widening in horror. Clary shook her head. "Not him."

Negan took his bat from Clary's hands, pushing her to the ground behind him. Negan's men surrounded her, guns drawn, to ensure she didn't get up while he turned and swung the bat on Glenn. I flinched back, Glenn's blood spraying across my face, Maggie letting out a scream. Like Abraham, Glenn rose, moaning as he tried to form words. In all my years, in all the horrible things that I've done, I've never seen anything as horrifying as what I saw that night. Negan leaned down in front of him, asking, "Buddy, you still there? I just don't know. It seems like you're trying to speak, but you just took a hell of a hit! I just popped your skull so hard, you eyeball just popped out! And it is gross as shit!"

"M-M-Maggie, I'll find you," Glenn finally managed.

Negan straightened, looking to Maggie. "Oh," he said softly. "Oh, hell. I can see this is hard on you guys. I am sorry. I truly am. But I did say it. No exceptions!"

Negan spun, swinging, and Glenn's blood sprayed across my face yet again. Glenn didn't get back up that time, but it didn't matter to Negan. He just kept on swinging. Even after Glenn stopped twitching, after he was long dead, Negan kept on swinging. Until there was nothing left.

"You lying sack of shit!" Clary yelled, but she knew better than to attack him. "You said you'd let them go!"

"I was going to," Negan replied, turning away from Glenn. He pointed to Rick. "But he pissed me and my men off. So, yeah, it was going to be just one of you. Just the ginger. But you didn't follow the rules."

When I was with Hydra, they would wipe me if I broke the rules. In the beginning, I'd beg them not to. It was useless. They did it anyway. And in that moment, I found myself wishing that they would make me forget.


End file.
